


Healing Tents

by TheOneKrafter



Series: Inquisitor Adhlea and her Weird Hahren [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: BAMF Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Dragon Age: Inquisition Inner Circle is Found Family, Dragonborn | Dovahkiin in Thedas (Dragon Age), F/F, F/M, Found Family, Gen, Mage Rights or Mage Fights, Mentor/Protégé, Mother Hen, because i fucking say so, but that’s expected, character focused, it’s the DRAGONBORN, less fight scenes than you expect, no im not joking, no one was safe, the dragonborn adopted every orphan she came across
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25101916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOneKrafter/pseuds/TheOneKrafter
Summary: “It’s an end to all evil, to all Skyrim’s foes! You’ll know, you’ll know, the Dragonborn’s come!“Adhlea Lavellan is terrified. They made her, a Dalish mage, into their goddess’s Herald.Luckily, she has Elaine. So, so luckily.(A now very experienced and very motherly Dragonborn ends up in Thedas, before promptly deciding to adopt the poor hero that’s been taught to rely on Staves. Staves, she tells you!)
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Teldryn Sero, Female Lavellan/Sera (Dragon Age)
Series: Inquisitor Adhlea and her Weird Hahren [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1878631
Comments: 198
Kudos: 608





	1. “Our Hero, Our Hero claims a warriors heart! I tell you I tell you the Dragonborn comes!”

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many other books I should be working on. So. Many. Anyways, enjoy! Because it’s been banging around in my head for literal years at this point.

“Darling, could you go kill some of those demons? I can’t heal if they keep interrupting me.”

“Gladly, _dear_ ,” the tall armored man says dryly, drawing his duel black blades and starting to chop up demons with startling efficiency. 

All the while the small young woman who asked him’s hands glowed gold, healing a scout back to seemingly full health in moments. 

“Friends if yours, Seeker?” Varric asks Cassandra as they run up to the rift. 

“No,” Cassandra grits out before shield bashing a shrieking demon with a war cry. 

The rift pulses in time with Adhlea’s hand and she resists the urge to cry at the pain. 

Her Vallaslin hurt more, she’s not some unblooded warrior, she _will not cry._

She wants her Papae. 

Adhlea twirls her staff in her hand and sends the top into what she assumes is a demon’s face, before freezing it through. 

A black blade shatters the ice and before Adhlea can say a quick thank you the mysterious man is slicing through another demon. 

“Wonderful magic, girly. Try not to hold your shoulders so stiff, though, it stilts the flow,” The young woman who’d been healing the scouts they found says, reaching over and adjusting Adhlea’s shoulders. 

A warm energy floods through Adhlea, and with wide eyes she feels the pains and aches she’d awaken with fall away. 

A spirit healer?

“Good girl, now go on, close the angry portal,” The woman says, patting her shoulder and Adhlea does just that. 

Adhlea’s hand spasms a little after forcing the rift closed, but it’s much more bearable without the body sized bruise she didn’t realize she had. 

“Who are you two?” Cassandra asks, sword leveled in the direction of Healer and Mystery Man. 

“Archmage Elaine Marquardt, and this is my husband, Teldryn Marquardt,” Healer, Elaine, introduces, doing a mock bow that makes all the dangling jewelry on her neck jingle. 

“Pleasure,” Said husband says, voice full of dry humor as he flicks demon gook off his sword. 

Teldryn? That’s an Elvhen name. 

Well, good for them. That’s absolutely none of her business. 

_Why is his head covered_?

Wait. Is Archmage some sort of Shem thing she doesn’t know about? Cassandra still looks like she wants to stab the healer.

“Archmage?” Solas asks, hands behind his back. 

“Hm. Unimportant, considering your reactions. I’m very good at what I do is the best description I can give,” Elaine says, her own arms crossing in front of her. 

Her fingers are covered in a mismatch of rings that… feel like mana. 

How did she not notice them when she healed her? 

“I can vouch for them, Seeker. If it weren’t for their quick intervention we would’ve died before you got here,” The head scout pipes up, rolling her shoulder. 

Elaine walks for the scout, hands glowing golden again and uncaring for Cassandra’s sudden shout to stay put. Adhlea watches the stress fall away from the scout the second the Healer’s hands rest on her shoulder, wondering if that’s how she looked. 

“A healer is always a good thing, Seeker,” Varric says, before wincing. “Er, most of the time.”

“Especially if Adhlea is to increase her chances of surviving closing the Breech,” Solas adds. Now Adhlea winces. 

Cassandra makes a disgusted noise. “Fine. We must continue.”

“I love a good world ending adventure,” Elaine says towards her husband. 

“You would,” Teldryn replies, and they begin their walk. 

“So… what brought the two of you to the conclave?” Varric asks the woman. 

Elaine shrugs. “We were not here for the conclave, just attracted by the chaos. With chaos there are interesting things to see and do.”

“... right. And you, Scarves?” Varric asks Teldryn, referring to the red scarves that are on his dark armor. 

“I go where Elaine goes,” The man says simply, twirling one of his blades in his hand. 

“Why is your face covered?” Adhlea asks the man. 

“Bounties,” The man says, the dry tone returning. 

“ _Dii Sil_ ,” Elaine murmurs chastisingly, flicking her husband’s helmet. 

“You are a _criminal_?” Cassandra asks. 

“He jests,” Elaine says, smiling but somehow Adhlea doesn’t believe her. 

“As long as you don’t have anything to do with this,” Varric says, gesturing to the carnage of the temple that they can now see. “I don’t care.”

“No, this is a tragedy I would never recreate,” Elaine says quietly, an awe coloring her voice. Adhlea looks at her and sees her taking in the breach this close and the still hot spikes jutting out of the earth. 

“And you have the power to do so?” Cassandra asks suspiciously. 

“There is a terrible beauty to tragedy, I’ve found. And those most willing to bring it usually have some grand delusions I don’t find myself prone to,” Elaine says, not answering the question really. 

Adhlea blinks slowly, opening her mouth to speak before stopping herself. Not the time. 

“And you have experience in this?” Solas asks now, drawn in by the curiosity of the couple. 

“Happens when you live to forty something when you attract trouble for a living. Right, _Dii Sil_?” Elaine hums, looking at her husband. Adhea wonders what language that is, and what it means. 

“That’s one way to put it, _Arasha_ ,” The helmeted man states, and Adhea feels a blush bloom on her face. Definitely an elf, then. 

“You’re forty? Could’ve fooled me,” Varric jokes. 

Elain shrugs. “My father was an elf,” She says, like it’s a proper explanation. 

It is, sort of. These shem do seem to get wrinkles faster than elves. 

They stop their conversation at the sight of the bodies. 

Adhea stifles a dry heave. 

Such loss of life, for what? For who? 

She can taste the iron in the air, hear it singing. 

If she- if she had something to do with this, she _will_ make it right. Or may the creators strike her down. Anything less is a shame on clan Lavellan. On her. 

* * *

Green magic blooms at Elaine’s fingers, and it launches into the huge Pride demon. 

The creature freezes on impact, almost paralyzed. 

“What?!” Cassandra shouts, before shaking her head and leading the charge on the now prone demon. 

“Oh fun, I didn’t even need to use Harmony,” Elaine hums to herself, tapping her fingers to her chin as she watches her husband and the other warriors take down the demon. Before the green magic pools at her fingers again and launches at the demon, perfectly timed with when it began to move again. 

Is this what a Master Mage looks like??

Elaine turns and looks at Adhea, head tilted. 

“Your stance, little dear, loosen yourself,” She says, tone motherly. She walks over and the golden light is once again cupped in her hands. 

Adhea quickly tries to correct herself, before Elaine gently moves her arms and stance to her liking. 

“The magicka can’t flow through you freely if you’re pulled taut like that. You stifle the magic available to you. Were you taught proper breathing exercises?”

“Darling, teach _later_ ,” Teldryn shouts from where they’ve subdued the demon. 

“Right, forgot about the big all consuming hole in the sky,” Somehow, Adhea genuinely believes it- “I’ll be healing you while you go, dear, just snap that thing shut.”

Adhlea raises her glowing palm to the sky, and the world bleeds green. 

—

The next time she wakes, it’s in a too comfortable bed. 

Adhlea shoots up, blinking stars from her eyes and peering around. 

She’s… in a cabin. The people don’t build cabins, where-

Oh. 

Adhlea looks down at her left hand, blinking at the mark that still lays on it. 

_Oh._

She sits there for a while, just staring at the mark, thinking about everything and nothing. 

She can’t go back home to her clan now, can she? She was in line to be her Keeper’s first. Now she’s here. With a mark that can heal the sky. The _only_ mark that can heal the sky. 

Adhlea feels her throat tighten, and shakes her head quickly. 

She will survive. First she needs to find out what’s happening, though. 

She hears a door open, and peers over to see another elven woman. Not Dalish, from the lack of vallaslin. 

The woman startles when she sees her, dropping the bundle of armor in her hands in surprise. 

“Oh! You’re awake.” The woman’s eyes are wide, and she drops to her knees, bowing. “I humbly beg your pardon, my lady, I am but a humble servant.”

Mythal have mercy, what is _this_ about??

Adhlea throws her legs over the side of the bed, grimacing. 

“Why are you acting like that? What’s going on?” Adhlea asks, deeply uncomfortable. The Dalish don’t do… _bowing_. Is this a city elf thing? And why ‘my lady’?

Her questioning apparently doesn’t improve the situation, because the woman stumbles back to her feet, still just as _scared_ looking. 

“I said the wrong thing didn’t I? Lady Cassandra wished to see you when you awoke. At once, she said,” And the woman is already fleeing the room before Adhlea can respond. 

That was weird. Very, very weird. 

Adhlea stands up and sees that the armor the woman had been carrying was hers from the climb up the mountain. Apparently cleaned and polished now. 

She picks it up and sets it on the bed, not bothering to put it on. It was for her mission to blend in, she’s not particularly attached to it otherwise. 

Though honestly it might be better than the clothes they’ve shoved her in, all pale and _Shem._

Well. She’d better see what the Seeker wants, if she can find her first. 

Adhlea steps out of the cabin and shivers, rubbing her arms of the cold, before jumping out of her skin. 

Leaning beside her door is Teldryn, the man from the mountain. 

He nods in greeting. 

“Where’s your wife?” Adhlea asks, confused. They were practically attached at the hip, or at least that’s the impression she got. 

“At the healing tents. She set me up over here because two of the locals already tried to sneak into your cabin and kill you. Elaine doesn’t like her handiwork being so quickly undone,” Teldryn says, fairly nonchalant at the mention of two attempted murders. 

“Two?” Adhlea asks, voice more confused than scared. She’s just some Dalish. Well, nevermind, now she’s a Dalish with a glowing hand. 

Teldryn shrugs. “She wanted to see you when you woke up, I’ll take you over.”

Well, Cassandra had wanted to see her first…

But Elaine hadn’t kept her in chains in a dungeon. Mysterious healer it is. 

Adhlea follows the still completely armor covered man, looking around. People are whispering about her as she walks past, or _bowing._ Why are they bowing? 

“They think you’re a messiah from their god,” Teldryn says dryly, not looking back. “Which is interesting, considering how they think about elves here.”

“They what? Why? I’m not even Andrastian,” Adhlea asks, hands coming up again to hold her arms. 

“Since when have humans been rational, kid?” 

Fair point. 

They step out of the gates, and towards a cluster of tents away from where a bunch of soldiers seem to be training. 

As they get closer Adhlea can practically feel warmth emanating from the tents, though she can definitely hear the strange twinkle of Elaine’s healing magic. 

Adhlea spots her with her hands above a man that definitely has a broken leg, golden magic flowing down from her hands and surrounding his body. 

The leg seems to pop back into place without issue, and the bruising on him seems to go away as well. 

The magic leaves a healthy glow on his face as he reaches down to feel his now perfectly fine leg. 

“You’re Maker sent, healer,” He whispers. 

Elaine laughs. “Trust me, the years I spent getting better at healing we’re all me, no Maker involved. Try not to come see me again so soon, dear, and watch your footing.”

The man looks up at her and nods quickly. “Thank you, my lady. I will.” 

He scrambles off of the cot and stumbles out of the open aired tent that is far warmer than it should be. 

Adhlea stands awkwardly, but Teldryn is already moving back to his wife’s side, placing a hand on her hip. 

“Oh! She lives! Come take a seat here dear, I’d just like to do another run through and make sure you’re in tip top shape,” Elaine says in greeting, smiling wide and patting the cot the man just left. 

Adhlea does so quickly, feeling like she’s a child again listening to her hahren. She stops herself short of saying “Yes, Hahren,” though. 

“Did you sleep well? Any nightmares?” Elaine asks as her hands begin to glow golden again, and Adhlea feels all her aches ease away. 

“Ah, no. You tended to me while I slept? How long has it been?” Adhlea asks. 

“Just a day, my dear. You haven’t missed much besides cleaning up the last of the demons and bodies. And yes, I made sure you were recovering nicely,” Elaine says, and the gold fades away. “May I see your hand?” 

Adhlea holds out her marked hand, and Elaine takes it palm up gently. 

“What an interesting little piece of magic this is. I haven’t seen something like this before, though I can understand it’s function,” Elaine murmurs, using a gentle finger to trace the lines of the mark. “I believe when you grabbed that orb, you took the key the big bad guy intended to use to break the veil. Unfortunately for you, it was a shittily made key. Parasitic magic intended to take the user out with it.”

Adhlea stares at the softly glowing mark wide eyed. 

“Is there anything you can do?” She asks, looking back up at Elaine.

Elaine hums. “Perhaps. I’ll need more experience with these tears in the veil though. And time.”

Elaine shakes her head, smiling. “Regardless, you’d better head off now. That Cassandra will likely have heard you’re awake and want to see you.” She gently pats Adhlea’s shoulder. 

“I’ll be right here if you need me dear, would you like me to send Teldryn with you? He’s very intimidating.”

Adhlea looks over at said man, who gives off the air of being completely bored. 

“If it’s not too much trouble…”

“Nonsense, he’s bored as Oblivion here. Teldryn?” Elaine looks over at her husband. 

“Sure, sure. Better than watching you put people back together,” Teldryn says, already walking out and waving for Adhlea to follow. 

Adhlea jumps up from where she’s sitting, giving Elaine a quick goodbye and following him back inside the gates. 

“You two are very different in personality,” Adhlea says, looking at the man’s armored back. 

“Not as different as you think. You’re likely reminding her of our children. Or worse, making her want to adopt _more_.”

Adhlea blinks at that, and decides that today is not the day for that jar of elfroot. 

* * *

Adhlea heads back towards the healing tents much faster than she thought she would when she entered the chantry. 

An Inquisition? With her as their Herald? She’s an _elf._ A _mage elf_ at that! 

Frankly, Adhlea doesn’t care who she reminds Elaine of, Elaine reminds her of her Keeper and she does _not_ feel equipped enough for this. 

Adhlea spots said woman sitting calmly by the fire, sipping what looks like a bottle of mead. 

Elaine sees her and smiles, waving her over. 

“I’ve heard they’ve officially declared this… _Inquisition_. Take a seat dear, you look paler than a wisp.”

Adhlea does so, sitting on the log across from Elaine. Teldryn is nowhere to be found, after he left the War Room she had figured he’d gone back to his wife. She was clearly wrong. 

“They want me to be their prophet. I’ve never even read the Chant in my _life_ ,” Adhlea says before she can stop herself. 

Elaine nods. 

“That does seems like a bit much when a day ago you were in a dungeon. Humans are a fickle people though, it must come with the shorter lifespan,” Elaine hums, grabbing a mead from inside her jacket and holding it out to Adhlea. 

Adhlea takes it, uncorking it and downing a swig with a grimace. 

“Shorter lifespan?” Adhlea asks. 

Elaine tilts her head. “Hm. Where I am from, the mer, or elves, live far longer than your average human. Hundreds of years, usually.”

Adhlea almost chokes on her drink, coughing. “ _Hundreds of years?_ ”

Elaine smiles. “Yes, hundreds. I’ll likely live to a healthy four hundred, if my father’s Altmer blood runs true. I don’t care much either way, though, life is long in perspective no matter how long you actually live it.”

“But, the Elves haven’t aged so slowly since- since before the fall of Arlathan!”

“Arlathan? I’ve never heard of such a place, but I assume it’s significant here,” Elaine says with a sigh. “I really must find more books, that little temple is filled with nothing but religious propaganda.”

Never heard- never heard of Arlathan? Just where is this woman from? 

“Ah, well, no matter. Tell me, little dear, where are you from?” Elaine says, changing the subject and smiling kindly at Adhlea. 

“Ah, well, my clan traveled throughout the Free Marches, so no where specifically.”

“Is that so? Tell me more about these Free Marches.”

“Well, there’s these city states…”

  
  



	2. The Next Chapter (no quipy title head empty)

“Bring up your elbow a bit, little dear- there we are!”

Adhlea stares unsurely at the training dummy. 

“Do I really have to learn this without a stave?” She asks, looking at Elaine. 

The short woman shrugs, smiling. “If you wish to improve in a different way, you are welcome. I’m simply imparting my own knowledge.”

Adhlea sighs.

“And if I’m better at doing spells without a stave, it’ll come even easier when I have it? I don’t know, not even my Keeper could manage freehanded spells like that,” Adhlea explains. 

Elaine pats Adhlea’s shoulder gently. 

“If you never try, you will never know.”

Well. Adhlea can’t really argue with that logic.

“So you teach magic? You seem very experienced,” Adhlea asks as she lets her mana flow, sending an ice spike at the dummy like Elaine showed her, and grimacing when it shatters against it. 

Elaine hums. “You are not my first student, and I doubt you’ll be my last. Try to put less magicka in, I think you’re letting too much excess flow out.”

Adhlea adjusts as instructed, and the spike is smaller now, but at least it pierces the dummy. 

“Did you teach your children?” Then, Adhlea backtracks. “If they were mages.”

“Oh, certainly. My sons Blaise and Francois, along with my daughters Sophie and Runa. And they all wanted to be taught  _ completely _ differently,” Elaine says fondly, and Adhlea’s eyes widen, looking over at the woman. 

She’s so  _ small.  _ Four children? 

_ Shems _ . The Dalish stick to one or two and stop. 

Elaine laughs at her expression. 

“Adopted, little dear, all adopted. And most are starting to raise children of their own now.  _ Focus _ .”

Adhlea looks back over at the dummy and sends a spike out. They spend the next hour talking about magic instead of Elaine’s personal life.

* * *

“Must we take  _ two _ Apostates,” Cassandra grumbles as they start their trek to the Hinterlands. 

“Three, actually! Our dear Adhlea is not circle trained,” Elaine says in her cheerful Ferelden accent, walking beside her husband. 

“ _ You know what I mean _ . You have been great help to our wounded, yes, but I am not so quick to trust,” Cassandra says, looking over at the woman suspiciously. 

“And that is most certainly your right, Lady Seeker. Teldryn, dear, did I grab the-?” 

“Yes. It’s in your front bottom pocket.”

“Oh! Thank you, Dii Sil.”

Cassandra makes a noise of disgust. 

Adhlea sighs mournfully. Shems. Now Adhlea understands why her Keeper was so wary, they all  _ bicker.  _

* * *

“Akatosh preserve me- their priests don’t even know healing magic. This is ridiculous,” Elaine says to herself once they walk up to Mother Gisselle, already headed towards the countless wounded refugees. 

Teldryn follows like a very tall and imposing shadow, twirling his swords before shoving them in their sheaths. 

“If those two aren’t a very good story I’ll eat my books,” Varric says, watching them go. 

“Do not be such a fool young man, these apostates aren’t half as trained in magic.” Adhlea can hear Elaine using a Hahren voice on one of her patients. 

Adhlea shakes her head, turning to Mother Gisselle. 

“So. You’re offering to speak with the Clerics for the Inquisition?”

Gisselle turns from where she’d been staring wide eyed at where Elaine walked off to, shaking her head.

“Yes,” Gisselle says, waving to walk with her. 

“Let me ask you this, though, do you truly believe yourself Andraste’s chosen?”

“No,” Adhlea says before she can stop her fool mouth. 

“I- My people have our own gods. And this mark on my hand is just a powerful piece of magic.” She doesn’t say that she doubts the human goddess these people pray to would pick a heretic, elven mage. She doubts her  _ own _ gods would pick her. 

Gisselle looks like she disagrees, which  _ of course _ she does. 

She goes one about how none of us could know what a god wants and how Adhlea should go to Val Royeaux to have talks with the Grand Clerics. 

Val Royeaux?? As in the capital of Orlais???

Adhlea should go home right now. She should never have told her Keeper she wanted to see outside the Free Marches, outside is  _ terrible.  _

Mother Gisselle walks away, presumably to get ready for her trip to Haven, and Adhlea runs a gloved hand down her face feeling ten years older and younger than she actually is. 

She turns to look at where she last saw Solas, Cassandra and Varric standing, but they’ve all seemed to have moved to where Elaine is fixing what looks like someone who was burnt and stabbed. 

Adhlea walks to them. 

“Gisselle says she’ll set up a meeting for us in Val Royeaux with the Chantry’s Grand Clerics,” Adhlea announces to the group. 

“Oh, the Orleisian capital? How fun,” Elaine says, the golden light that was washing over the woman under her fading. 

“Fun is the opposite of what I would call Val Royeaux,” Cassandra says gruffly. 

“Come now Seeker, with a merry band like this? What could go wrong?” Varric says. 

Adhlea looks at what feels like the most rational adult, Elaine. 

“I don’t know how I feel leaving the Hinterlands such a mess though,” Adhlea says. 

Elaine looks over at her, wiping blood from her hands, black and gold painted lips smiling. 

“Well then you shouldn’t leave it like that. Why don’t you ask around and see what the people here at the crossroads need, and work from there?” Elaine asks. “It’s not as if a meeting with the Grand Clerics can be arranged in a day.”

Cassandra looks like she objects, vehemently. 

“We must hurry back to Haven now that our job is done. The Breach is our first priority,” Cassandra says. 

“I agree,” Solas pipes in, not just spectating the conversation anymore. 

“I can’t study the mark interacting with rifts unless I watch her close some,” Elaine retorts. “Not to say I doubt Solas’s expertise in this matter, I just believe the more practice Adhlea has the less likely she is to die a martyr.”

Oh. Yeah, Adhlea isn’t so keen on dying a martyr now that she thinks about it. No, definitely isn’t. Rift practice it is!

“I agree with Elaine. Is everyone ready to move out?” Adhlea says. 

Cassandra looks displeased, Solas carefully placid, but Varric looks like he’s not mad at her. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be, lead on Bluebell,” Varric says. 

Oh. That’s a nickname. Aw, she gets a boring nickname about her eyes? 

Adhlea walks and pretends she’s not very uncomfortable with being in a warzone with people she barely knows. 

* * *

Adhlea just wants to go to bed. 

She’s Dalish, she can handle the physical stuff all this requires, but honestly?

“So you simply will not eat?” Cassandra presses. 

“No, I won’t,” Teldryn says dryly, sitting on a log by the fire with his wife. 

“You cannot expect me to let someone not at their best protect the Herald!”

“It’s good then, that I’m protecting my wife, not your Prophet,” Teldryn bites back. 

Adhlea just wants to go to  _ sleep.  _

“You’re protecting the Herald,” Elaine says offhandedly from where she’s flipping through her journal. 

“I protect the Herald and my wife how I want,” Teldryn corrects seamlessly. 

Cassandra looks like she’s going to strangle him. 

“Since you only seem to listen to your wife- Apostate, tell your husband he cannot simply not eat because he does not wish to show his face,” Cassandra tries. 

“Oh Teldryn does what he wants, I simply make suggestions. And he will eat eventually. Probably.  _ Dii Sil _ , where did I put the-?” Elaine hums. 

“In the tent, my completely competent, Dovahkiin wife,” Teldryn cuts in easily.

What is a Dovahkiin?

Adhlea wishes she was smart like Varric and already went to her tent. 

“One can be a competent Dovah and still be forgetful, just ask Parthurnax,” Elaine says, flicking her husband’s helmet with a smirk. 

Cassandra goes to their tent in a huff, and Adhlea hopes to the entire Evenuris except Fen’heral that she doesn’t try to rant to her when she follows. 

Elaine looks up at Adhlea. 

“Do you need to go lie down, little dear? Do you have a headache?” Elaine asks immediately, concern coloring her features. 

Adhlea feels entirely the nineteen year old she is in that moment. 

“I didn’t realize leaving my clan would put me in the center of the most at odds personalities in Thedas,” Adhlea admits, rubbing her eyes. 

“Likely not the  _ most _ at odds, but I see your point. Would you like a potion for headaches? I have one somewhere…” Elaine starts patting her pouches, looking for this potion. 

“No, no it’s fine!” Adhlea tries and fails to stop her mothering. 

“Just let it happen, kid. The more you struggle the more she tries,” Teldryn says grimly, stretching his arms above his head and cracking a few joints. 

That’s both terrifying and comforting. 

“Ah, here it is! Tastes like lavender and blue mountain flower, but it does the trick. Try to down it in one go,” Elaine says, producing a small green vial from her robes. 

“And that’s not one of your poisons?” Teldryn asks dubiously. 

“ _ No _ , and if it was I’d use it one you first, old man. Here you go, Adhlea.” Elaine hands Adhlea the potion that really hopefully is not going to kill her. 

Adhlea pops the cork off, sends a prayer to Mythal, and downs it. 

Oh, that doesn’t taste so bad. Like elfroot. And her head isn’t pounding anymore. 

“See!  _ Not poison _ ,” Elaine says pointedly at her husband. 

“I miss the time when you called me  _ Mr. Sero _ . Where did that Elaine go?” Teldryn snarks. 

“She’s dead. She was stupid enough to bring home a chiton covered Dunmer,” Elaine snarks back. “Where’s the Teldryn who called me Boss and said I was his best employer?”

“He’s dead. He waited in a Nordic ruin for three days for her after she  _ left him- _ “

“ _ That was an accident and you know it! _ ” 

Adhlea shares a look with the Inquisition scout on nightwatch. They both nod, and proceed to never speak again. 

“The draugr thought I was one of them,” Teldryn says in convincing contempt. 

“This is why we didn’t get married for so long. So rude,” Elaine huffs. “Go eat in the tent, my love, you get sassier when you’re hungry.”

“ _ Yes dear _ . Try not to adopt any new ones besides the Herald while I’m gone,” Teldryn says, gently patting his wife’s head before walking into their tent. 

Elaine focuses on Adhlea now. 

“So, Adhlea. Any thoughts on the things you did today? Anything you would do differently, or anything that stands out?” Elaine asks, gentle and kind. 

“Oh- did I do something wrong?” Adhlea asks, quickly racking her brain for anything stupid she did today. 

“Not anything that I noticed, but sometimes it helps to talk out how you’re feeling with someone else.”

Oh. That’s really nice, actually. 

Elaine takes the spot as the nicest human Adhlea’s ever met at this point, honestly. 

“Well, running headfirst into the Mages base probably wasn’t the best idea,” Adhlea says. “I wish we could’ve just spoken, this all feels like it’s unnecessary.”

Adhlea didn’t have to kill anyone before all this. She’ll do what it takes to bring order, but this-

She doesn’t know how many washes it’ll take, but she wants the smell of burning flesh out of her nose. 

Elaine nods sympathetically. 

“Sometimes people don’t want to listen, though,” Elaine says gently. “Your destructive magic is improving from what I can see, though, along with your aim.”

Adhlea knows they wouldn’t have listened, that they didn’t really deserve a chance, but it’s still-

At least none of their party were hurt, taking all of those mages on. And tomorrow they’ll hit the Templars. 

“I can feel a slight difference. Does this mean I need to keep doing those exercises?” Dread creeps into Adhlea’s voice at the end. 

Improvement is built on practice, her Keeper would say. But Adhlea isn’t the most patient of people. 

Elaine laughs. “Oh, so you don’t want to learn a few new spells? I suppose I’ll keep the health stealing spell to myself then-“

“Health stealing?!” Adhlea cuts quickly. “Isn’t that blood magic?”

“No blood needed, though if you’re squeamish about stealing the life force of others I wouldn’t suggest it,” Elaine says, unconcerned. “Though I think you’d favor the schools of Illusion or Alteration more than that. Do you know Muffle?”

In the ensuing conversation, Adhlea learns that she knows much less about magic than she thought.

* * *

“It’s not  _ working _ .”

“I think your annoyance may be leaking through. Have you tried  _ imagining _ being less loud?”

“Imagining- Hahren I don’t know if that’s how magic works.”

“Oh sure it does! Do you need a spell book? I’m sure I have one somewhere, that’s always how I learned-“

* * *

Solas is careful. 

“It’s magical presence is looped around her arm attached by the veins. It’s practically clamped down on her very essence.” Solas hears the whisper inside the Mage’s tent. 

“And that means?” A lower voice asks, the husband. 

“Whatever that orb was, it’s a highly powerful magical artifact. It reminds me of the orb that killed the last Archmage,” The Mage hisses. “Her body isn’t built for that kind of magical output. It will  _ kill her. _ ”

Solas didn’t account for a highly powerful mage likely unseen since Arlathan appearing in what seems to be her magical prime. 

“Can you fix it?” The husband asks. 

“Probably. Maybe. Akatosh have mercy, she’s  _ nineteen.  _ Younger than I was.”

Was when? Solas is not liking the lack of information he has on this mysterious woman and her husband. Not at all. 

“You didn’t have the last dragonborn helping you. She’ll be fine, love.”

Solas needs more information, but for now, he can only observe. 

“I hope so. At least the children never got glowing green hands when we weren’t looking. I love you, Teldryn.”

Solas backs away, no longer wishing to intrude on the couple. He will attempt to befriend this woman and her husband. A threat like that is better endeared to him. 

* * *

Adhlea decides fighting Templars is the worst and she would prefer mages. 

The spells just bounce off their stupid shields, every freaking time. 

“This is why you learn how to stab people, dear,” Elaine quips from beside her, a wicked looking sword in her hand as she shoots forward towards the big shielded Templar Adhlea has been trying to burn to a crisp. 

Adhlea watches wide eyed as the healer stabs the Templar’s armpit, one of the only weak points in his armor it seems, and knocks his shield out of his hand. 

“Go ahead now, Dear!” Elaine shouts, kicking him towards her. 

Adhlea lets out a yelp of surprise at the angry shieldless Templar coming her way, sending a barrage of fire at him in reaction. 

“A teaching moment? Right now, Elaine?” Teldryn shouts to Adhlea’s right. 

“She’ll be fine!” Elaine calls from where she’s watching Adhlea try her hardest to burn this Templar to a crisp. 

“You can’t toss this one at enemies, Elaine, she’ll combust,” Teldryn shouts. 

“As much as I love the banter, can we focus on killing the angry Templars?” Varric adds from behind Adhlea. 

Cassandra only adds a warcry to the conversation, and Solas responds by throwing a barrier over Adhlea. 

Adhlea smacks the Templar’s helmet with the back end of her staff, and he drops in a burning heap. 

“Good job dear! Very fast reaction time.”

Adhlea should never have left the Free Marches. Ever ever ever. 

* * *

“So, you do not use a stave,” Solas says. 

“And you don’t need one,” Elaine quips. 

Adhlea can feel her “Oh this is going to end horribly” senses going off. But she says nothing, because they have to get this out of their systems now instead of in a fight. 

“And you can assume that why?”

“You’re experienced with a stave, yes, but it’s a crutch. You don’t need it, I can see it in your gait. Are you pretending normalcy to avoid the Seeker’s prosecution?” Elaine asks, the picture of innocent curiosity. 

Teldryn sighs. 

“Are you hiding things, Apostate?” Cassandra hisses.

“No more than our other Apostate, Seeker. Would you have made me Tranquil if I said yes?” Solas asks, coolly polite. 

Varric’s pulling out his book journal. Adhlea didn’t sign up for any of this. None!

“No one is being made Tranquil, okay? Oh look! A rift!” Adhlea cuts in, going in a vague direction, because with her luck she’ll run into one anyways. 

“Don’t look so obviously uncomfortable, Bluebell, Val Royeaux is going to eat you alive,” Varric says teasingly. 

Cassandra looks like she’s about to fight for her honor or something, Solas looks like he’s ready to freeze her, Elaine is smiling like nothing is wrong, and Adhlea has no clue what Teldryn is thinking. 

“I find that outcome preferable to listening to you all bicker,” Adhlea grumbles. “There’s a hole in the sky! Can’t everyone just work together?”

“Oh you poor dear, if everyone worked together in a crisis people like you wouldn’t have to crop up and fix it all,” Elaine says offhandedly, and when Adhlea looks over at her she sees the older woman is flipping through her journal. 

“People like me?” Adhlea asks, dread in her gut. 

“Exceptional individuals built for heroics. Tempered in blood and angst,” Elaine says simply, looking up with a terrifyingly knowing look in her dark gold eyes. “Always normal until they’re not. You have my condolences on that, dear one.”

The group is hit with a drowning silence after that sentence. 

“Well shit. You that certain, Mama Bear?” Varric asks, breaking the silence. 

“Happens when you have personal experience,” Teldryn snarks darkly, and Elaine flicks his helmet with an annoyed expression. 

“I don’t bring up  _ your _ troubled past,” Elaine hisses at him. 

“I didn’t pull a country back together by my little fists-“

“ _ My hands are normally sized. _ ”

Then, they meet the bears of the hinterlands.

_ Dread wolf take the stupid bears of the Hinterlands _ .

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elaine: *throwing weakened enemies at Adhlea*
> 
> Adhlea: AHH
> 
> Teldryn: *calmly murdering any Templars coming near them with a sigh*
> 
> Varric: Oh this is gonna be a best seller


	3. Val Royeaux and a couple lessons in Heroing.

Elaine looks entirely too at home on this damned  _ ship.  _

Adhlea isn’t built for the ocean at  _ all.  _ Her feet belong firmly on the ground. Very, very firmly. 

“Here, dear, a nausea potion,” Elaine says kindly, handing her a pink bottle. 

Adhlea doesn’t even ask questions, uncorking it and downing it, immediate relief filling her at the nausea’s sudden absence. 

“You’re a blessing from Mythal, Elaine,” Adhlea says, rubbing her face.

“Akatosh, actually,” Teldryn corrects from where he’s staring out at the ocean. 

“Oh hush,” Elaine says quickly, punching her husband’s side with an annoyed look on her face, before looking back at Adhlea. 

“It’s nothing, dear, I just have had to learn a very odd assortment of potion recipes over my lifetime.”

“How are you so at ease, though? The boat is constantly moving!” Adhlea presses. 

“Oh, I was born on a ship and spent much of my young life on my mother’s ship,” Elaine says simply. 

Adhlea blinks. “Oh, really? Was she a merchant?”

“She’s a pirate, and she’s a scourge on anyone unlucky enough to be near her,” Teldryn says dryly. 

Elaine opens her mouth with an offended look on her face, before closing for it. “Well you’re correct on that front.”

_ A pirate?? _

“Did I hear that correctly? Your mother’s a pirate, Mama Bear?” Varric interjects, walking up to the trio.

“Yes. And she’s almost seventy-four now,” Teldryn interjects, almost eager. “She sends her letters still asking when she’ll take over the family trade.”

“ _ Teldryn, _ ” Elaine hisses. 

“Man, Mama Bear, she must have been surprised to have a mage on a boat. How did you avoid setting it aflame?” Varric asks. 

“She married a mage, so clearly she wasn’t particularly bothered by scorch marks on her boat,” Elaine says dryly, still glaring at her husband. 

“The mage that she-“ Teldryn starts. 

“Teldryn Sero, not everyone must know of my mother’s escapades,” Elaine says sternly. 

“Oh, forgive me oh great Dovahkiin, I’ll just sit here and look pretty then.”

“Do that, lovely trophy husband of mine,” Elaine says sarcastically. “Regardless, would you like to learn the nausea potion, Adhlea? I’m sure it would be useful to you.”

Adhlea feels like she’s missing something, but nods. 

“Yes. Do you two always banter like that?” Adhlea asks. 

“Ours is not a marriage of false serenity, kid,” Teldryn says dryly. “Tethras, I have cards and drink if you’re doing nothing else?”

Varric grins easily. “Oh gladly, Scarves. I’ll leave you two to it,” Varric says as he’s led away by Teldryn. 

“I have a potable potion making set in the cabin, how experienced are you with potion making?” Elaine asks Adhlea. 

“Enough to know how to cut an Elfroot, but not much else,” Adhlea says. 

Elaine shakes her head. “Oh you poor dear, come with me, I’ll teach you how to make a real healing potion while I’m at it.”

* * *

Val Royeaux is  _ big.  _

“Ah, reminds me of the Imperial City,” Elaine murmurs to Teldryn. They’re speaking only loud enough for an elf to hear. 

“Fucking hated that place,” Teldryn says grimly. “How you could stomach talking to all those nobles is beyond me.”

“Well when you’re a Thane of every hold on Skyrim they tend to listen and smile prettier,” Elaine snarks. 

“Helped that you could shout them to pieces,” Teldryn says darkly. 

Adhlea has no clue what they’re talking about, but makes eye contact with Solas nonetheless. 

None of their business is the consensus between them. Everyone forgets elf ears aren’t just for show. 

Unfortunately, an Inquisition Scout comes to tell them the Clerics are slandering them in the town square with the Templars. 

“Oh, intrigue! I love when it always turns out harder than it should be,” Elaine quips to the party as they walk into the city, past towering statues. 

“I am glad you are enjoying yourself, Archmage Marquardt,” Solas says from where he’s idly looking at the statues. 

“Oh have we fallen to  _ titles _ , now? How unfair, I have none for you,” Elaine tells the bald man with a mock pout. 

“I am sure you can come up with something, you have a very quick wit. How about Apostate?” Solas asks. 

“Oh I could never. How about we go even and call each other our given names?” Elaine asks. 

Solas hums. “I suppose that could be agreeable, Elaine.”

“And you, Solas.”

“ _ Mages _ ,” Varric says with a sigh. 

“For once I agree, Dwarf,” Cassandra says stiffly as they come upon the platform where a Chantry Mother seems to be doing the opposite of singing the Inquisition praises. 

* * *

“Would you prefer a potion or magic, Mother? I’ve heard you people are uncomfortable with magic,” Elaine hums to the fallen mother while Cassandra paces back and forth about the Lord Seeker. 

“I need not the help of heretics, Apostate,” The Mother says grimly. 

“You really don’t know what you’re missing out on, Mother, Elaine’s healing magic soothes aches you didn’t realize you had,” Adhlea quips from beside Elaine. 

“I don’t understand what the Lord Seeker is thinking!” Cassandra says.

“Probably that you’ve started up a band of crazy heretics that let the Divine die,” Varric offers, before hiding behind Solas when Cassandra raises her fist at him. 

“Really, Mother, I can even cut my hand and show you that the magic works, you could have a concussion,” Elaine tells the holy woman, exasperated. 

“Please, Mother,” One of the Sisters crouched by the Mother pleads with her. “I’ve heard of this one’s work in the Hinterlands. A simple spell cannot hurt.”

“Finally, a rational one,” Elaine grumbles. 

“Fine. Be quick, Apostate,” The Mother says. 

Golden light quickly rushes from Elaine’s hands to the flow through the Mother’s body, and Adhlea tries not to be awed after seeing it so many times. 

The magic sings like chiming bells. 

And just as quick as it came, it’s gone, and Elaine is standing from her crouch before the prone Mother. 

“Are you certain you don’t wish to support the Inquisition? We’re not as bad as I think you people are making us out to be,” Adhlea asks the Mother as she stands. 

“We are just doing what we believe to be right, child,” The Mother says, a nonanswer that is basically a no. 

Great. Adhlea got on a boat for no stupid reason. 

“Well, we tried. Come now, dear, at least we can get something out of this trip,” Elaine hums, hopping down from where they’d been standing on the platform. 

“And what’s that?” Adhlea asks. 

“Information gathering, of course. Endearing ourselves to the nobility. Sweetrolls. There are many options,” The raven haired woman says simply, peering around the market with keen eyes. 

“I should’ve brought the bigger backpack,” Teldryn says with a sigh. 

Then, an arrow smacks two inches from Adhlea’s foot and she jumps a foot into the air. 

* * *

“Must we talk to everyone you come across, Marquardt?” Cassandra asks Elaine as they walk away from the fourth noble she’s approached in five minutes. 

“Yes! You’re free to go to the rooms the Lady Ambassador booked us, Seeker,” Elaine tells Cassandra cheerfully, writing in her journal. 

The look on Cassandra’s face suggests she doesn’t trust any of them wandering alone in this city, and frankly that’s fair. 

“As much as I love wandering this gold encrusted city, my legs are getting tired. You ready to head to the Inn, Chuckles?” Varric says, saving them all the trouble of a complaining Cassandra while Elaine and Teldryn seem to be sight seeing. 

“I admit I’m tiring as well, Master Tethras. You’re welcome to join us, Herald, Seeker,” Solas offers. 

“I’m fine here, Solas. You should head off, though, Cassandra, I doubt those two can find their way to the Inn without trouble,” Adhlea says, looking as innocent as possible. 

It’s not that Adhlea dislikes the Seeker, but the more distance between her and Elaine the better for everyone else’s heads. 

“Yes. We’re very easily lost,” Solas says straight faced.

“And trouble tends to like me, unfortunately,” Varric adds, equally serious besides the small grin on his face. 

Cassandra makes a disgusted noise. 

“You are all deviant, you know this? Come along, Dwarf, Apostate, we will leave these three to befriend every noble in Val Royeaux,” Cassandra says, turning to walk to the Inn with them in tow. 

Adhlea watches them go, before turning when she hears Elaine laugh. 

“Oh that one is a great deal of fun to have around. Now, Adhlea, how do you think you can earn the trust of a city?” Elaine asks Adhlea. 

“Uh… save them from a Qunari Invasion?” Adhlea asks, thinking about the Champion of Kirkwall. “There’s no Qunari Invasion coming… right?” 

“Not that I know of,” Elaine says, head tilted. “Though it is a good idea, keep that in mind for any Qunari Invasions. I was thinking you do a grand amount of quests for them until they, in majority, like you.”

Adhlea blinks, slowly. 

“And that…  _ works _ ?”

Teldryn laughs, now. “Oh you have no idea.”

“Here, take this journal for writing what you need to do down in. The first step is talking to people, usually if they realize you’re an adventurer they’ll start telling you all their problems,” Elaine says, handing Adhlea a journal and pen. “Now, watch and learn.”

They’re out for a few hours, and Adhlea hadn’t realized how often people lost things, or needed things, or wanted something killed. 

A lot more than she thought, evidently. So, so many more. And they kept calling her a fucking  _ rabbit _ until Elaine and Teldryn taught her how to make a face that scares people into shutting up. 

Adhlea likes that face. She has no clue how Teldryn conveys those feelings with his face covered, but it works. 

Oh, and these people keep giving her money or stuff for doing things for them. 

After receiving her fourth random ring, Adhlea asks Elaine if this is normal. 

“Oh not at all, but you unfortunately attract trouble. I’m just teaching you how to use it to your advantage,” Elaine hums. “Speaking of which, I can teach you how to enchant things with those rings once we get back to Haven.”

Oh! Enchantments?

“You know how to enchant things?” Adhlea asks the woman, watching her take down her falling apart bun and retie it. 

“Certainly. It’s immensely less money to do things like this yourself. The same goes for smithing weapons.”

Adhlea doesn’t know why she gets surprised at this point. 

“You’re a smith?”

“Adhlea, my dear girl, the more skills you have, the easier everything becomes,” Elaine says like she’s imparting a great life lesson. At this point Adhlea believes her. 

“Elaine, it’s getting dark, and that Seeker is going to kill us if we don’t bring the kid back soon,” Teldryn says, helmet pointed up, looking up at the sunset colored sky. 

Elaine sighs. “All too right,  _ Dii Sil _ .” She looks over at Adhlea, all motherly kindness that sort of makes Adhlea’s heart ache. 

She’s an  _ adult,  _ damn it all. She has her Vallaslin! She has a perfectly functional Papae with the clan. 

But Elaine is so  _ nice _ , Fen’heral take it all!

“Well, to the Inn, little dear.”

And so they walk and talk about a few of the odd things Elaine and Teldryn have done by running errands for people. 

They’re walking into it when Adhlea exclaims. 

“A  _ dragon attack _ ?” 

“Yes. And it almost bit Teldryn’s leg off. It was very stressful, I tell you,” Elaine says solemnly, parting her husband’s shoulder. “He’s a fragile flower.”

“Am I the one who cried about frostbite spiders?” Teldryn asks blandly. 

“Such a fragile man, my husband. So pretty, so  _ breakable _ ,” Elaine goes on, pretending she hadn’t heard him. 

“Ah right, seem but not heard,” Teldryn says as they walk over to take a seat at the table where Solas, Varric and Cassandra seem to be bickering. 

“I am ever so glad I chose to help the Inquisition, where else could I hear such threats?” Adhlea hears Solas say politely. 

“How you avoided the Templars for so long with that mouth, Apostate, I am in awe!” Cassandra shouts, throwing her hands up. 

“I have only heard good things about my mouth, Seeker.”

Varric snorts into his ale and coughs when it comes up his nose. 

“I see we have missed absolutely nothing of importance,” Adhlea says, wide eyed at the trio. 

Elaine pulls out a seat for her husband, then herself. 

“ _ Nope _ ,” Varric says through coughs, “Nothing at all, Herald. Nothing.”

Adhlea takes a seat, shaking her head. “I’m going to pretend I’ve heard nothing that just went on. Hello, good evening, how are you all doing?” 

“Perfectly fine, Herald, thank you for asking,” Solas says with a smile. “And how was your outing?”

“Elaine has taught me that apparently if you exude enough “Adventurer Energy”, people will ask you to do things for them and become your friends,” Adhlea says. “And it works. I don’t know why, but it does.”

Varric lets out a wistful sigh. “Yeah, I knew a guy who could do that.”

Cassandra looks at him with narrowed eyes. 

“Er, not that I know where  _ that guy _ is.”

Cassandra nods, taking a drink from her cup. 

“And what things did you do for these people?” Solas asks. 

“One man wanted me to find a dagger he lost, but it was stolen by a half sentient dog so I had to chase him across the city,” Adhlea says, grimacing. “And then there was the cloaked woman with weird trinkets. She wanted a finger. Don’t ask how we got the finger. She gave me a nice necklace, though.”

“Not cursed, we checked,” Teldryn adds, fairly happy seeming to let Adhlea do all the talking. 

“Well.  _ Probably _ not cursed. But curses build character!” Elaine hums cheerfully from where she seems to be sharpening a dagger Adhlea didn’t know she had. 

Adhlea should really be more concerned about that statement, but at this point she has enough faith in the woman that she’ll probably be fine. 

“Herald, do not put on the cursed necklace,” Cassandra says sternly. 

“How would you react if I already put it on.”

Cassandra makes a disgusted noise. 

It’s been a good day, all things considered. 

* * *

Adhlea blinks sleepily, looking over to see two cloaked figures closing her Inn door. 

“A heist for books, never change, love.” Adhlea hears one of them say quietly. Teldryn?

“Knowledge is very important, Dii Sil. And, now I feel more comfortable building a cabin in Haven to protect the books.” Adhlea hears the smaller one say. Elaine?

The tall one stills, then sighs. 

“This is the wrong room, Elaine.”

The other one that’s definitely Elaine looks around. 

“Oh, oops. Wait a moment, you’re the one who’s supposed to remember these things!”

Adhlea sighs. 

“Should I even ask?” Adhlea asks the two of them, sitting up. 

“Sorry dear, terrible memory. Damned eyes don’t work like they should,” Elaine grumbles. “If you don’t tell I’ll teach you a spell to calm down most weak minded enemies?”

Adhlea, who is certain it’s an unnaturally early hour, is too tired to disagree. 

“Deal,  _ go to bed _ , Hahren,” Adhlea says, laying back down and rolling over. 

“Sweet dreams, dear. Oh, did I forget the-“ and with a shut of Adhlea’s door, the mysterious couple are gone again, and Adhlea decides this is a problem for future Adhlea as she falls asleep. 

* * *

“You  _ cannot _ bring children back with you to Haven.”

Adhlea looks up blearily from her porridge. 

Elaine huffs. “And leave them on the streets? I think not. It will be fine, Seeker, I’m perfectly willing to pay the captain taking us to Ferelden more for them.”

Adhlea looks carefully at Elaine and Teldryn and realizes Teldryn is holding two children over his shoulders. 

Adhlea doesn’t get paid enough. She really, really doesn’t. 

“You cannot go around adopting children, hand them to the Chantry Sisters who run the city’s orphanages.”

Elaine looks very unimpressed with Cassandra’s suggestion. Adhlea takes a slow bite of her porridge. The honey is nice. 

Food and a show.  _ Wooh  _ for her. 

“They’re racists, Seeker. You think I’m putting Elven children with racists?” Elaine asks dryly. 

“Then the Alienage, I’m sure-“

“ _ Out of the question _ ,” Elaine hisses. “That is a glorified ghetto and I will not feed it more victims.” And with that Elaine is walking up the stairs to her room, Teldryn following with their new children(?) in tow. 

Adhlea blinks slowly. She’s not sure if she’s seen Elaine annoyed before. 

“Would you like some porridge?” Adhlea asks the Seeker.

Cassandra makes a disgusted noise, but thumps into the seat beside Adhlea anyways. 

Adhlea pats the woman’s shoulder. “It’s okay, it was gonna happen eventually.”

“They cannot take in responsibilities like that so carelessly!” Cassandra says. “They are on the field with us so often, it is foolish to bring children into that.”

Adhlea shrugs. “I dunno, Cassandra, from what I’ve heard they do this adventure stuff all the time and raised  _ at least _ five kids at the same time.”

That’s a low estimate. Adhlea can imagine Elaine bringing home five every  _ month _ . 

“And should one or both of them perish?” Cassandra asks. 

Adhlea seriously thinks about it. 

Logically, Adhlea realizes everyone dies. 

She can’t really imagine Elaine or Teldryn doing it though. 

“I… think they’ll be fine. They’re on another level, Cassandra. From what I can tell, Elaine is far too used to this saving the world business,” Adhlea says, taking a bite of her porridge. 

All signs point to Elaine being some hero of legend, or something, but Adhlea’s never heard of her before this. It’s probably thanks to how far away she’s from, but something about her is just- 

Other. Not the same as the rest of them. 

“And you mean to imply what? She is some hero?” Cassandra asks incredulously. 

Adhlea shrugs. 

“Maybe. I’ve got a big green mark on my hand and there’s a hole in the sky. I’m all for a more experienced person being sent by the gods or something.”

It’s too early for this. Adhlea is going to finish this porridge before any more deep thoughts,  _ fenhedis _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t sleep last night, I did, however, sleep this morning! If any of this is incomprehensible blame the lack of sleep.
> 
> (I have so many other fics that need updating, you know what I start posting? A Skyrim/Dragon Age Crossover. End my suffering.)


	4. “Oh there Once was a Hero Named Ragnar the Red”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a longer one, since over quarantine I’ve very suddenly gotten to the point where I regularly write 5000 word chapters instead of my old 3000. Enjoy?

Adhlea watches with wide eyes as Elaine, out of her usual grey, mage attire, and in a tunic and trousers, chops down a tree with practiced movements. 

There’s stakes in place where the healing tents are set up, presumably for the cabin Adhlea vaguely remembers Elaine talking about in Val Royeaux. 

Adhlea stares at the woman’s bare arms, having not realized the muscles and scars she had hidden under her robes. 

“Herald, why is she cutting down a tree?” 

Adhlea turns and sees Cullen, who looks concerned. 

“I think she’s building a cabin,” Adhlea informs him. “Why aren’t you with the troops?” Adhlea doesn’t think she’s ever seen the man leave the training area except for his tent or War Room meetings. 

Cullen sighs. “One of the scouts informed me that Lady Marquardt was cutting down a tree-“

The tree falls.

“ _ Cut _ , down a tree. I had to make sure nothing odd was going on.”

Then, they both watch Elaine levitate the tree with glowing hands. 

“It seems nothing is out of the ordinary,  _ for her _ . I will see you soon, Herald,” Cullen says, warily watching Elaine walk towards them and walking back to the training ground. 

“Hello, Adhlea! Would you like to practice your levitation skills and take this to a spot I’ve cleared for wood?” Elaine greets cheerfully. 

Adhlea stifles a sigh. Always training with this woman. 

“Yes, Hahren. Should I be learning carpentry  _ too _ ?” Adhlea asks, then regrets it when she sees the look on Elaine’s face. 

“Of course dear! How else can you be self-sufficient if you can’t build a house?”

Adhlea really needs to learn how to close her fool mouth. Her Keeper is laughing at her from the Free Marches. 

At least if and when she goes back to the clan she can bring back skills, or something.  _ Oh levitating dead trees is harder than Adhlea thought-!! _

—

Elaine is a good teacher. 

Adhlea is just a bit impatient. 

“Why aren’t my hands doing what they should?” Adhlea hisses, annoyed. 

Elaine presses her soft olive skinned hands against hers, moving them into the proper position. 

“Frustration is normal, but you need to become okay with failure, dear,” Elaine hums. “Many things will not come easy at first.”

“But it’s sanding a tree! It shouldn’t be this hard,” Adhlea says, scowling. 

Elaine shrugs. “What should and shouldn’t be hard is all personal perception. I can turn invisible on a whim, why  _ should _ it be hard for others?”

Adhlea sighs, because she really can’t argue with that, and starts sanding again. 

“Oi, Herald!”

Adhlea looks behind herself, and gets a snowball to the face. 

“Ow,” Adhlea mumbles. 

Adhlea hears distinctly Sera like cackling. 

“Oh it is  _ on! _ ” Adhlea declares, setting down her tools. 

“Ah, to be young,” Elaine says with what’s likely a roll of her eyes, probably watching Adhlea sprint after Sera. 

—

Sparring. Adhlea is used to it, there’s soldiers all over Haven, but. 

“You’re doing very well!”

Cassandra gives a warcry, charging Elaine while people watch wide eyed. 

Elaine steps quickly out of range, a training sword held loftily in her right hand, unused so far. 

“If I am doing well, how are you still standing?” Cassandra asks, looking very agitated. 

“I kill dragons single handedly, dear Seeker, you are not failing simply because you haven’t hit me yet,” Elaine says, using her kind hearted “teaching moment” voice. “You are better than many!”

Cassandra makes her disgusted noise, and goes in for a shield bash. 

Elaine steps to the side, ducks around Cassandra’s quick slash, and sets the edge of her sword against the taller woman’s neck. 

“I yield,” Cassandra says, not happy about it. 

Elaine steps out of Cassandra’s space with quick ease, smiling. 

“Well done. It does not seem like it, but your quick bash and slash would have gotten your average templar,” Elaine offers, handing her training sword to a waiting recruit with stars in his eyes. “I’d suggest sparring with smaller opponents more often, perhaps a rogue?”

“I will take it under advisement. Do all Apostates learn skills outside magic to survive?” Cassandra asks, rolling her shield arm shoulder after she hands her training sword and shield to another recruit. 

Elaine laughs. “I suppose not, considering most apostates I’ve met so far. I’m just aware that should my magicka be unavailable, I do not wish to be less powerful than before.”

Elaine turns to the now slowly dispersing crowd, head tilted. 

“Would anyone else like a few tips, since I am already here?”

At least three people step forward at once. 

“She’s something else,” Adhlea hears said beside her, and spots Sera. “Big and she knows it, helps.”

Adhlea nods, watching Elaine already correcting people’s stances. 

“Don’t want her muming at me though,” Sera says, shivering and making a face. “Wanna go put pie in Vivy’s bed?”

“Yup.”

—

“So, you are the Apostate I have heard so much about. Archmage, is it?” Grand Enchanter Vivienne asks, having appeared in the middle of Adhlea’s target practice. 

“The very one,” Elaine says with a smile, adjusting Adhlea’s slackened stance without looking. “Were you here to practice, or to have conversation, Grand Enchanter?”

Adhlea doesn’t know how she does it. Does she have eyes on the back of her messy bun? Which, by the way, should not look as artful as it does. Elaine definitely does some sort of magic to it. Maybe a stasis spell. 

Adhlea turns back to the battered dummy in front of her with a grimace, calling a controlled ball of electricity to her palm before sending it like a bolt of lightning at the dummy. 

The dummy’s drawn on smiley face mocks her.  _ Mocks her.  _

“Conversation, my dear. You seem experienced in training magic,” Vivienne says. 

Adhlea’s bickering senses are going off. She pointedly forms another lightning bolt and sends it into the dummy’s face. It hits his shoulder instead.  _ Stupid dummy.  _

“Well, being the Archmage of a College of Magic will do that to someone,” Elaine hums, as if that’s not a  _ bombshell.  _

Adhlea snaps her head over to look at the nonchalant woman, surprise on her face, before Elaine gently turns the top of Adhlea’s head back to face the target. 

Right. Later then?

“A bold claim from one no one has heard of before this point,” Vivienne says. 

“I’ve only recently come to southern Thedas,” Elaine says, still completely unbothered. “Though from what I’ve heard, the Circles seem a bit lacking in comparison.”

Oh  _ burn.  _

Adhlea finally hits the Dummy in the head, but only enough for a little scorch.  _ Fen’hedis _ !

“Is that so?”

“Yes, though I suppose the College did not often take in very young Mages, we never have felt the need to bring in armed guards to keep the students in check.”

“So I suppose your  _ College _ is quite proficient at preventing possessions?”

Adhlea adjusts her magicka-  _ mana _ output a little with the next bolt, and grins when she puts a scorch on the dummy’s head that covers the stupid smiley face. 

“Well done, Adhlea!” Elaine praises. “That could take a man’s head off or fry his insides. Just don’t try it on a dragon, or giant.”

Adhlea grins. 

“But back to the subject, yes. This…  _ veil _ on this plane is very odd, as well as the more versatile spirits, but there are wards in place to prevent unwelcome body stealing,” Elaine says, arms crossed and tapping her chin. “Frankly, the way you do things here seems barbaric.”

Adhlea really should be stepping in at this point, because Vivienne looks like she’s considering freezing Elaine and Adhlea knows Elaine wouldn’t be too happy about that.

“Love!”

All three of their heads turn, and Teldryn comes walking over with two children over his shoulders. 

“One of the children started sparking,” Teldryn says dryly. 

Elaine’s face lights up in delight. 

“It’s not my fault!” One of the children, a boy over Teldryn’s left shoulder, cries. 

“Of course not, little dear, we can not control nature,” Elaine then pauses, contemplatively. “Well, I suppose in a technical sense we  _ can _ . Did you set anything aflame?”

“He zapped the floor,” Teldryn says, as visibly unphased as a man covered head to toe in armor can be. 

“Better the floor than a sibling. If you excuse me, Grand Enchanter, Adhlea,” Elaine hums cheerfully, walking over and ruffling the boy’s hair and chattering as they walk back towards the healing tents. 

“Be wary of that wilds witch, Herald,” Vivienne states, frowning. “I have seen her type before.”

Adhlea makes a face, because she’s bad at this whole not showing how you really feel thing that the Orleisians are prone to. 

“You’ve barely met her,” Adhlea settles for, diplomatically. Lady Josephine would approve. Maybe. Adhlea hopes. 

Vivienne turns her eyes to Adhlea, expression smoothing seamlessly. 

“First impressions are everything, my dear.”

Something about the way she says it is grave and probably full of personal experience. Adhlea feels wary. 

“Varric told me not to judge books by their covers, though he was drunk and ankle deep in a very heated game of Wicked Grace,” Adhlea says, smiling, trying to ease the sudden tension. 

Vivienne sighs. 

“One would expect that from the man who romped about with the Champion of Kirkwall, wouldn’t they?”

That’s probably a good point. But Adhlea doesn’t get paid enough to think too hard about  _ that.  _

Honestly considering she’s surrounded by Shems and technically employed by them, Adhlea was not expecting how much they  _ did _ pay her, on top of the things she gets running around the Hinterlands. 

That's not the point, though. 

“Probably. Would you like to get somewhere warm?” Adhlea asks. 

Vivienne studies her for a moment, before nodding. 

“That would be agreeable. And Herald? Must you edge that Red Jenny on?”

Adhlea pointedly does  _ not _ laugh. What an odd concept, not enabling such a force of chaos!

Vivienne looks unimpressed anyways, Adhlea assumes her amusement showed anyways too. 

—

They’re leaving Haven again, because the Mages are in Redcliffe and the Hinterlands is still too much of a mess to just leave it the way it is. Oh, plus the Warden man, and the mercenaries in the Stormcoast. 

There’s a lot. Too much, honestly. 

“You cannot simply leave them,” Cassandra is arguing with Elaine again, because that might be those two’s favorite pastimes. 

“I’m not. They’re being watched by a trustworthy person who can stab anyone who tries to touch them,” Elaine says matter of factly. “I’ve raised children before, Seeker, I assure you that I know what I am doing.”

Cassandra looks frustrated, but stays her tongue at the reminder that Elaine isn’t as young as she looks. 

Adhlea focuses on petting her horse, absolutely too tired this early in the morning for “banter”.

“ _ Dii Sil _ , do you have the papers? I could’ve sworn…” Elaine trails off, looking through her bag. 

“Second pocket to the right, how you survive without me is a miracle,” Teldryn says. 

“Dramatic. I’d just lose everything if you weren’t here to remind me,” Elaine says with a small grin. 

“Can we  _ go? _ Shit’s early  _ and _ cold,” Sera declares with a grimace. 

“Gladly,” Adhlea grumbles. “Though calling the Hinterlands warm would be a lie.”

—

“Why don’t you use one of those fancy sticks?” Sera asks after a skirmish. 

“I wasn’t taught that way, which I'm glad for. Most of these mages can’t even manage a proper calm spell,” Elaine says, sounding very put out at the thought of it. 

“Calm spell?” Sera asks, slowly, because she probably isn’t sure if she wants to know more weird magic shite. 

Her words, not Adhlea’s. 

“It’s an illusion spell. Depending upon the power of the caster, and the way you use the spell, it can put a feeling of calm into even the most determined assailant,” Elaine explains. “Short answer, less having to get blood on my robes.”

“Why have you not used this spell before?” Cassandra interjects. 

Elaine shrugs. “The spell is temporary. Most of our enemies will simply go back to killing everything that moves once it wears off, no matter how much you attempt to reason with them.”

Adhlea notes that there’s a twinge of something in her words implying she’s already tried it with little success. 

“And how could you know this?” Cassandra presses, because her newest hobby is apparently arguing with Elaine and challenging her. 

Which, Adhlea admits, would be fine. If she didn’t have to listen to it. Every hour or so. 

“Experience,” Elaine says gravely. “Wars are not new to me.”

“Alright! We have that widow’s ring! Let’s bring it back now!” Adhlea interrupts, false cheer in her voice and already moving in that direction. 

“Does anyone need healing?” Elaine asks as they walk. 

It’s a rhetorical question, she’s going to heal any of them if they look a bit off. Case and point, she’s seemed to have focused in on Varric’s slight limp. 

“Serah Tethras, you could just ask for help,” Elaine hums. “May I heal you?”

“I’m fine, Mama Bear, no need to waste the mana,” Varric is quick to wave her off. 

“Oh, trust me, magicka conservation is not a concern,” Teldryn says with a snort. “Just let her fix your leg, Tethras, she doesn’t bite unless you ask nicely.”

Adhlea’s face turns bright red. 

“Gross!” Adhlea declares. 

“Aw, Addy here is blushing!” Sera says with a snicker. “What, never heard of the birds and bees?” 

Sera starts making lewd gestures. Because of course she is. 

“The more I try to stop you the more you’ll wanna fix it?” Varric says, looking back at Elaine with narrow eyes. 

“I’ll shove a healing potion in your dinner if I must, and you won’t taste it,” Elaine says cheerfully. 

“Somehow, I believe it,” Varric says with a sigh. “Fix away, Mama Bear.”

“You will not be putting anything into people’s food, apostate,” Cassandra adds, unhelpfully, while Elaine waves a hand and the golden twinkling sounds for a moment, fixing whatever mess Varric had going on. 

“Which apostate, seeker?” Solas pipes in innocently. 

“ **_Both._ ** ”

Sera is still making gestures, but now with sound effects, and she seems spurred on by the way Adhlea is covering her face. 

“Is this how all of your escapades go?” Vivienne says, dryly. “I am beginning to doubt the effectiveness of this team.”

“Oh it’s all in good fun, Madame De Fer,” Elaine hums. “Teldryn, my love, we should’ve brought more companions along for our adventures, this is much more entertaining!”

Teldryn makes a noise that implies it would be a disaster but he’s agreeing because he would relish in that kind of disaster. 

Or, Adhlea is trying to distract herself from Sera. 

“We tried that once, love. Lydia almost strangled a daedric god,” Teldryn says.

“Oh, I’d forgotten about that. Serana was having fun! Marcurio did almost start a cult, though.”

Adhlea can hear Varric writing from here. 

“Daedric god?” Solas pipes up, the same time Cassandra says “Cult?!”

Elaine laughs, it sounds more like a cackle than Adhlea can be comfortable with. “Oh, nothing of import. Very dull, really.”

“Sera, I will get my magic all over your arrows!” Adhlea threatens, and they’re almost to the widow’s hut. 

Sera immediately stops, eyes narrowed. 

“You  _ wouldn’t _ !”

Adhlea gives her a look that says she very much  _ will.  _

—

So. Warden man. Big beard, tall. Stopped an arrow from hitting her face with his shield.

His name is Blackwall. Adhlea thinks, as she stares on at the many companions she is acquiring, that she might have a problem. 

Elaine pats her shoulder sympathetically. 

“Think of it this way, little dear, more people to carry things for you,” Elaine says sagely. Her husband groans from where he’s playing cards by the fire. 

“Do not spread that nasty habit, Elaine,” Teldryn says. “The amount of shit you lost because you forgot you handed it to someone-“

“Well I kept the important things!” Elaine says, pouting with her arms crossed. It makes the usually almost intimidating to motherly looking woman look as young as her features would let one assume. 

“How many bones did you hand to Lydia.”

“... some.”

“Fifty-eight. She keeps them in a chest beside the forge at Breezehome.”

“You carry around bones?” Sera interjects, making a face. 

“Dragon bones,” Teldryn states, dryly. 

“You were honest about being a dragon slayer?” Cassandra interrupts. 

“Of course,” Elaine says, an eyebrow lifted. “What did you assume Teldryn’s armor was made out of?”

All heads turn to said man’s armor, and, in hindsight, it was obvious. 

“How do you forge dragon bone?” Adhlea asks. 

“With patience and too much time on your hands,” Elaine says, grinning. “The bone is not metal, but with enough heat it will shape.”

“Is anyone actually believing this?” Vivienne asks from where she is daintily perched on a log by the fire. 

“Madame De Fer, trust in me when I say I do not speak idly to fill air,” Elaine says good naturedly. “Of course you are allowed to believe what you wish.”

Vivienne looks just as unconvinced, but she plays the game so well Adhlea isn’t sure. 

Everyone turns back to what they were doing, either chatting amongst themselves or playing cards or, in Blackwall’s case, sitting awkwardly to the side. 

Adhlea plops right beside him. 

“So. Warden?” Adhlea asks. 

“So, Herald?” Blackwall returns. 

Adhlea huffs a laugh. 

“Okay, that’s fair.” She watches Teldryn and Varric banter quietly while they play their game of cards, while Sera tries to catch Teldryn off guard enough to take off his helmet. “How are you feeling about the team? You’ve only been here for a day, but.”

Blackwall hums, thoughtfully. 

“They do not know each other, yet, Lady Herald,” Blackwall says, and Adhlea makes a noise in her throat at the Lady crap. “But I can see a ferocious group of fighters should they work in tandem.”

Sera is tugging on Teldryn’s helmet. She’s getting absolutely nothing. Teldryn doesn’t even look bothered. 

“Have you tried tugging from an angle?” Teldryn says, clearly amused. 

Sera grumbles some expletives. 

“You can just call me Adhlea, Blackwall,” Adhlea says, trying to nip the religious worship thing in the bud before it gets too deep. Like  _ Cassandra.  _

“Of course, Lady Adhlea,” Blackwall says solemnly, and Adhlea distinctly does  _ not _ pout. Not her. 

“Oh, Sera, dear, it’s magically locked,” Elaine says, not looking up from where she’s reading a book and writing in her journal quickly. 

“Ugh!” Sera says, looking at her hands and the helmet like it’s contaminated. 

“Great try though, Buttercup!” Varric says, grinning. 

Solas wanders over to where Elaine is seated. 

“Would it be bold to ask what you are reading?” Solas asks politely. 

“Oh, of course not,” Elaine hums, sounding distracted. “It’s banned in Orlais and Ferelden, I believe. Theories on the Change of Shape.”

“Ah, I shall attempt to be discreet, then,” Solas says in complete seriousness. 

“A few of their ideas are on point, but the main conclusions they seem to be leading to are incorrect,” Elaine says, pausing from where she was writing to look up at Solas. “Do sit, if you wish. I think us apostates must stick together!”

“That one has not a fearful bone in her body,” Blackwall says contemplatively. 

Solas settles on the same log as Elaine, if a respectful distance away. 

Adhlea nods solemnly. “I don’t question it. Her healing magic makes all the training aches go away.”

Honestly, Adhlea should be more wary, but Keepers are always a little off, right? And Elaine is clearly a Keeper, even if she builds her clan wherever she walks. 

“How do you take it off if it’s a magic lock?” Sera grumbles suspiciously. “You’re not a  _ mage _ .”

Teldryn casually drops his last card and, with Varric’s groan, takes the pot. 

“It’s keyed so that I, Elaine, and our adult children can take it off,” Teldryn says. “Got to be careful, don’t want anyone seeing these roguish features.”

Elaine, off to the side, pauses in her magical theoreticals to snicker at that. 

“That's a lot of work to hide your face, Scarves. You got a secret?” Varric asks playfully. 

“I have blood red eyes, and grey skin,” Teldryn says in deadpan. Now, Elaine is cackling. 

“Lies!” Sera shouts, pointing at him. “You’re just some criminal or some bit, gotta hide your identity!”

“He is too pretty to go to jail,” Elaine says thoughtfully. 

“Yes, however would my wife survive without her trophy husband,” Teldryn says completely seriously. 

“I regret my life choices by the second,” Vivienne says with a sigh.

“Me too, Madame, me too,” Adhlea says, staring at this gaggle of adults with an expression that could only be described as “ _ I would pray but I have a feeling there is no gods or I’ll have to fight them myself _ ”.

—

Adhlea handles all she can handle in the Hinterlands until she’s tired of the green and the bears and probably the bickering but there’s no avoiding that at this point. 

And then they head off to the Storm Coast, and things get  _ worse.  _

“This is worse than snow,” Teldryn states, annoyed. 

“Not everywhere can be dry as the Ashlands,  _ Dii Sil _ ,” Elaine says. “Is your drying enchantment not working? I’m sorry.”

Elaine waves her glowing hands, herself drenched and not caring at all, but fretting over her husband. 

“I’m fine, dear, ignore me,” Teldryn grumbles, reaching over and messing up his wife’s hair bun, disproving Adhlea’s stasis spell theory. 

“Agh!  _ Ag nau hin sil _ !” Elaine hisses, untying her hair while her husband laughs at her. 

“How much farther to camp, brave Herald?” Vivienne asks, sounding disgruntled despite the fact she is using a barrier as an umbrella. 

Huh. Adhlea didn’t realize Elaine’s hair was that long, it’s halfway down her back. 

“Less than thirty minutes?” Adhlea says, though it sounds more like a question. It’s not her fault the map is a little, uh, wet. 

“That is less certain than I’d like, Bluebell,” Varric says, looking over at her from on top of the pony he’s riding. 

“Adhlea, just pretend you know what you’re doing in these situations,” Elaine says from where she’s somehow managing to ride her horse and rety her hair. 

“That is terrible advice!” Cassandra says. 

“The camp is fifteen minutes due north, Lady Seeker, if I thought we were going the wrong way I would gently change our course,” Elaine says dryly. 

The rain is still coming down, now as more of a sprinkle. Adhlea doesn’t sigh. She really doesn’t. 

They come up on the camp, Elaine sees to drying all of them, as much as they can be dry while still in the rain, and Adhlea deals with the fact that apparently there’s a cult on the coast who are harassing her men. 

Well, more Leliana’s and Cullen’s men than her men, but the point still stands. 

Oh, and the mercenaries they were seeing about hiring are just down the cliff. Should probably handle that first. 

So, they set down their stuff, and start hiking down. 

...Adhlea didn’t expect the rocks to be this slippery.

“Look down and try and find sturdier footholds,” Elaine murmurs helpfully, coming up beside her. 

Adhlea looks down, and glances over to Elaine’s feet, landing on the sturdier looking bits of the path with ease. 

Adhlea tries to replicate it, slipping a little less than before but also stuck looking down rather than up, which is a bad idea in her experience. 

“Don’t worry, nothing will sneak up on you while we’re right here, just focus on learning how to walk right,” Elaine reassures, laying a gentle hand on her armored shoulder. 

Adhlea trusts her. 

The group is mostly silent as they walk and come up to the shore, but when they spot the mercenaries. 

“Holy shit,” Adhlea says, eyes wide on the biggest Qunari she thinks she’s seen before, and she’s been to  _ Kirkwall _ . 

He cleaves a venatori half, then kicks another away from one of his men. So this is The Iron Bull??

The skirmish finishes up, leaving none of the mercenaries down as far as Adhlea can tell, and The Iron Bull starts walking over to them. 

“So, you’re with the inquisition, huh?” Iron Bull says, looking down at her. “Glad you could make it. Come on, have a seat, drinks are coming.”

And then Adhlea is sitting on a rock across from Iron Bull, while Elaine has snuck away to heal people. Well, not so much sneak as walk onward without a care for how others feel. 

Teldryn stays at Adhlea’s back, though, which she’s glad for. 

“So, you’ve seen us fight. We’re expensive but we’re worth it. And I’m sure the Inquisition can afford us,” Iron Bull says, and oh great more decisions on Adhlea’s shoulders. 

“How much exactly?” Adhlea asks, cursing that she’s never had a head for maths. Why don’t the advisors ever brief her on this crap?

“Nothing that’ll cost you personally,” Iron Bull says simply. “Your Ambassador, Ah, Josephine? We’ll go through her. Get the payment set up. The gold will take care of itself, don’t worry about that, all that matters is that we’re worth it.”

“ _ Yes _ I’m aware that magic is  _ very scary _ , but your ankle is sprained, young man.”

Adhlea pointedly doesn’t look over to see how her hahren is harassing the mercenaries. 

“Well,” Adhlea says. “Your Chargers certainly seem like a great company.”

She sounds uncertain. See? This is why she never wanted to try for being the Keeper’s first. She’s gonna ruin it all. He’ll be gravely insulted and-

“Yeah, they are, but you’re not just getting the Chargers,” Iron Bull says with a smile. “You’re getting me. You need a frontline bodyguard.”

Oh. Bodyguard?

Iron Bull stands and starts walking. 

“Whatever it is, demons? Dragons? The bigger the better. And there’s one other thing. Might be useful, might piss you off.”

Oh, please don’t be evil or something. 

“Ever hear of the Ben’hassrath?”

_ Oh _ . Okay, that she can work with. 

“Spies for the Qun, along with fighters,” Adhlea says, looking at the man before her in a new light. Oh, she can definitely see how he can spy being that big. No one expects it. Too many… muscles. 

Bull explains that he’s been ordered to join up and make sure the world isn’t about to blow up, and that he can give reports through the Benhassrath spy network-

Is it even a question? Adhlea can’t pass up on more spies, Leliana will stab her. 

“As long as your reports are going through our Spymaster first. Welcome to the Inquisition, Iron Bull,” Adhlea says, hoping her voice sounds confident and strong and… not bad. 

So, The Iron Bull joins their ragtag group. 

“Teldryn, my love, I think I have a type,” Elaine says contemplatively. 

“No, really?” Teldryn says dryly. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“You cannot have a  _ type _ when married, apostate,” Cassandra adds from up ahead, though there’s more exasperation than biting this time. 

“A ring does not make one blind to the beauty in the world, dear Seeker,” Elaine hums. 

Adhlea doesn’t even wanna know. 

“So, if things go well with the breach they aren’t invading, right?” Adhlea asks Iron Bull, trying time keep the trepidation out of her voice. 

“As long as this gets handled fine… probably, Boss,” Iron Bull says. 

Okay. That's a little comforting??

“Right. Okay, just had to ask. When you grow up near Kirkwall…”

“Ah. That. Fair enough.”

“You grew up near Kirkwall, kid?” Varric pipes in from behind them. 

Adhlea makes a face, she can’t help it. 

“The clan travelled enough that it counted, I guess. How anyone comes out of there normal is way beyond me, sorry, Varric,” Adhlea says, looking back at said man. 

“Oh, no offense taken. Just didn’t realize it.”

Things are going fine! This will be fine. 

—

Things are not fine. Her scouts are dead on the floor and she needs a stupid Mercy Crest. 

“I can make this easily enough,” Elaine murmurs, pulling out her journal and writing quickly. “I’m sorry, little dear, this isn’t something you could’ve fixed.”

Then why does Adhlea feel like halla shit? Maybe if they were faster on the road, maybe if they’d stopped playing around-

A heavy, gauntleted hand lands on Adhlea’s shoulder. 

“You can’t control the shit show, kid. You just have to work off of what you’ve got,” Teldryn says. “Focus all that energy on killing the leader of the fuckers.”

Right. Right, she needs to focus. If her eyes would stop burning she could focus. 

“We handling the bodies?” Iron Bull pipes up. 

They should, shouldn’t they?

“Yeah- yeah. Uh, we should make sure to get any personal stuff off of them first, for their families,” Adhlea says, ignoring the way her voice wobbles a bit and looking over at the bodies. 

Shit. Just-  _ shit.  _

“We can handle that, Bluebell,” Varric pipes up. “You can guard outside while we go?”

Yeah. Guard outside she can do. 

“Are you sure?” Adhlea asks, because she should help. She should. She has her Vallaslin, she’s not a kid-

“Don’t worry, da’len,” Solas says, and Adhlea walks out, Teldryn right behind her, into the sprinkling rain. 

She stands there, watching for more enemies or something, but her eyes start welling up with tears and-

“ _ Fenhedis, _ ” Adhlea curses, reaching up to wipe her face. 

Teldryn taps his fist on the top of her head, gentler than she’s seen him with any but the kids he and Elaine brought back from Orlais. 

“Talk,” Teldryn says. 

“I should be  _ better _ ,” Adhlea hisses. “It’s not my fault and I still feel like it’s my fault.”

Teldryn nods. 

“And- and I know there are so many people much better equipped for whatever position I’m in, being the stupid Herald of some stupid shem god,” Adhlea continues, words falling out before she can stop them. “ _ I just wanna go home _ .”

Adhlea is glad she left Sera back at camp. She doesn’t know how she’s react to her bawling like a da’len over stupid stuff. 

Teldryn sighs. 

“Come here, kid,” He says, holding out his arms. Adhlea accepts the hug for what it is, uncaring about how his armor is a little pointy. 

Teldryn pats her back, tells her it’s not her fault that she’s got a glowing hand and that she doesn’t have to do this alone and Adhlea might miss her babae but this works too. 

—

“She gonna be alright?” The Iron Bull asks. 

“She’s too young, but fate doesn’t care about how old you are,” Elaine says, running a hand down her face. Solas watches the knowing look in her eyes carefully. “My husband is likely comforting her, right now let us focus on the corpses and avoid traumatizing her further.”

Elaine searches the bodies with the air of someone who has done this a thousand times, personal effects in hand in but a moment. 

“Cassandra, are there specific burial arrangements I should see to, or is a simple fire enough?” Elaine asks the woman. 

“A pyre is usually built, but so long as they are burned…” Cassandra trails off, unused to the small woman before them taking charge. 

“Alright. Solas, if you could hold these? I will lose them,” Elaine says, turning to Solas. 

Solas nods, holding out his hands for the jewelry and one mabari totem. 

Elaine waves a hand, the bodies lifting as she steps out the side door opposite to where Adhlea and her husband had left. They all stare silently at the exit for a moment. 

“She wasn’t joking about that hero shit, I’ve only seen Hawke take charge that fast during shit like this,” Varric says quietly. “Well, better go check on the kid.”

And with that, the dwarf has walked out the way Adhlea went. 

With every moment Solas is around that woman and her husband, he has only more questions. 


	5. “Hail, summoner! Conjure me up a bed, will you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in a row? Blasphemy.

“Elbow should be a little higher,” Teldryn instructs, moving said elbow up a little higher. 

Adhlea’s arms hurt. 

“Do I have to learn with both hands?” Adhlea asks, grimacing. 

“You break one arm and you’ll still have another to fight with,” Teldryn explains dryly. 

Well. Adhlea wishes she could argue with that, but she can’t. 

“Let’s test your blocking,” Teldryn says, and then he’s in front of her and trying to tap her with a stick. 

“ _ Agh! _ Warn me! Why do you two never warn me!” Adhlea says, hopping back and whacking the stick away with her borrowed sword. 

Teldryn chuckles, and he’s going for another tap. 

“Don’t put all your weight on your left.”

More tapping. 

“You’re holding it like a staff.”

Adhlea adjusts, shifting out of the way of one tap but getting tapped on her stomach. 

“That was your liver. You would’ve bled out and died.”

Adhlea takes everything back. She likes Elaine’s teaching more. 

—

Blackwall bashes away a spider towards Iron Bull, Adhlea quickly casting a barrier around the Qunari. 

“Aha!” Elaine cries, and Adhlea looks over to see her holding up a deep stalker by its neck. “It seems we have what we came for, though it’s been best to clear out these spiders as well.”

They do so, left in the mildew smelling cave checking over each other for injuries. 

“I’ve never skinned one of these before,” Elaine says contemplatively. “Is anyone injured?”

“I’m afraid I have been bitten,” Solas says, a hand over his bloody side. 

“Oh dear, darling, hold this,” Elaine says, handing the dead deepstalker to her husband and hurrying over, already pulling out a potion and one hand glowing gold. 

“Down it in one go, Solas,” Elaine says, handing over the potion and waving a hand over his bloody side. 

Solas does so, making a face at the taste. 

“That should remove any venom,” Elaine hums, and with the sound of bells Solas seems to relax a bit, gold swirling around him. 

“I have not seen healing spells such as that outside the fade,” Solas says. 

“Blame the state of your magical education institutes,” Elaine says, turning from him to look over the rest of the party. 

“Ah. Iron Bull, would you like a spell or a potion? I can tell my magic unnerves you,” Elaine says, moving over to the much taller man. 

Iron Bull grunts. “Spell is fine.”

Adhlea twirls her staff, looking around the cave. It’s a bit dark so-

Fire bursts forth from her open palm, a small controlled flame to light things up while she snoops. 

She looks around, stepping over what’s probably the remains of a deepstalker meal. 

She looks behind herself and jumps when she sees Blackwall. 

“I’m putting a bell on all of you,” Adhlea says gravely. 

“Of course, Lady Adhlea,” Blackwall says, smiling under that beard. 

Adhlea shakes her head, but continues her snooping, face brightening when she spots a chest. 

“Ooooh! Loot!” Adhlea says excitedly, stepping quickly over to the chest and putting her staff on her back. 

She tries with one hand to open the obviously dwarven thing, but frowns when it doesn’t budge. 

“ _ Fenhedis _ ,” Adhlea grumbles, looking over at Blackwall. “You know how to pick locks?”

“I’m a warden, not a thief,” Blackwall says.

Adhlea sighs. “Fair enough. Let’s see if any of the others know it.”

She doubts it, they have Iron Bull, Blackwall, Solas, Elaine and Teldryn. All not rogues.

They wander back to see Elaine seemingly fretting over The Iron Bull’s horns, clicking her tongue about dryness. 

“I can make a salve. I can not believe your superiors did not think to send you any supplies to handle it,” Elaine says. 

“Anyone know how to pick locks?” Adhlea asks, already knowing she’s going to need to go back to camp and grab Sera or Varric. 

Elaine looks over, pausing her examination of the amused Qunari’s horns. 

“Oh, I can. I cannot believe I didn’t remember to teach you,” Elaine hums, walking over to Adhlea. “Lead the way my dear.”

Adhlea realizes she’s shouldn’t be surprised at this point, really she does. 

Especially when the curious party walks over to the chest and she watches the hahren pull out her tools from a pocket in her robes and start probing the locking mechanism Adhlea hadn’t even spotted. 

“Dwarves, always thinking they’re too smart for a few little tools, once you know where to look…” Elaine murmurs, amused, before they all hear a click, then another. “There. Grab your spoils, little dear.”

Adhlea does so, grinning giddily at the sight of a few pouches of gold and jewels, along with a well made bow. 

“You experienced in dwarven made things?” Iron Bull asks behind Adhlea, who’s happily looting the chest. 

“More than experienced. The amount of ruins I’ve had to step through- And all their damned  _ machines _ . Very experienced,” Elaine grumbles. “I’m simply happy that one was not nastily trapped.”

“I thought you have never skinned a deepstalker? You surely cannot avoid those in dwarven ruins,” Solas pipes in. 

“Not native to the ruins I explored. There were more falmer and spiders,” Elaine says. 

Where is Adhlea going to put that bow- oh, she can hand it to Blackwall to hold. Which she does, and he accepts it with an amused look. 

“Falmer?” Adhlea asks, turning back to the group at large. 

Elaine grimaces. 

“Not a story for damp caves, if you wish to hear it. Camp first, little dear,” Elaine says. “I can tell you about it while I craft this Mercy Crest.”

Adhlea nods. 

More walking through the rain then. Ugh. 

—

The whole of the people Adhlea seems to have picked up are sitting around the fire now, Varric drawing a few into a game of wicked grace. 

“Can you tell me about Falmer now, hahren?” Adhlea says, watching the woman make the necklace that’s supposed to let Adhlea fight less big bad guys. 

Elaine grimaces again, but that only makes Adhlea want to know more. 

“Be aware that I am not from here, little dear, and that the dwarves here are a bit different,” Elaine murmurs, frowning. 

“What’s this about dwarves?” Varric says, and Adhlea sees he’s already got his journal out, spelled dry by Elaine. 

“Elaine has apparently been through many dwarven ruins in her time,” Solas says from where he’s sitting, a book in hand. “She was going to tell our herald about an enemy she commonly faced in them.”

Varric makes a face. “Other than darkspawn?”

Elaine sighs. 

“Where I am from, Serah Tethras, there are no dwarves, or dwemer, left,” She starts, and now the whole camp is looking intently. “Simply ruins and large caverns dotting the landscape.”

“And where  _ are _ you from?” Madame Vivienne presses. “You have been very vague.”

“Presumably? A separate plane in oblivion,” Elaine hums, nonchalantly. 

“You jest,” Cassandra scoffs. 

“It matters not,” Elaine says. “You wish to know of the Falmer, Adhlea? I will tell you.”

“There were once the snow elves.”

Oh. Adhlea doesn’t know if she likes where this is going anymore. 

“They ruled the cold and the tundra, a proud people. But when the human Atmorans came, they wished to have the tundra for themselves.”

Elaine’s voice carries through the small camp, even if she speaks lowly. 

“The snow elves fought bravely, but ultimately lost. The Atmorans, soon to be known as the Nords, had taken their home. Either they fled, or they lived under their rule. Many fled to the dwemer.”

“What’s this got to do with falmer?” Sera pipes in. 

“They became the Falmer.”

Quiet. 

“The dwemer allowed them to stay with them, as slaves. Fed them poisons to lose their sight, experimented on them, they thought it preferable to what waited above ground,” Elaine says, voice ever quiet, soft for a lost people. “By the time the dwemer died out, all that remained of the snow elves was hunched down, eyeless creatures.”

“Oh,” Adhlea says.

“Of course, they then started stealing people from the above to have their own slaves, and that became an issue. So. Yes, I am experienced in stepping through dwemer ruins. And Falmer were a problem one faced below the earth.”

A weighted silence. 

“ _ Shit _ , Mama Bear.”

“Shit indeed,” Elaine says, turning to look at Adhlea. “I have your Mercy Crest, little dear.” 

Adhlea stands and takes it, deeply unsettled by the possibility of more of her people being abused by the other races. 

“The mushrooms the Dwemer fed them made them less elf and more goblin,” Teldryn adds from where he’s setting down some cards. “Fucked up definitely, but not as bad as having to kill all those damn machines the dwemer left lying around.”

Elaine groans. “The soul gems were not worth all the bolts to my stomach, or the centurions. And then Blaise and Hroar saw fit to try and take back Blackreach- they get that foolhardiness from you.”

Teldryn snorts. “Yes, they get it from me, all powerful  _ Dovahkiin- _ “

Elaine throws a magically formed snowball at her husband, who dodges emanating smugness. 

“What does that mean? You keep teasing her with it,” Adhlea pipes in, throwing the necklace over her head and happy that the atmosphere is less serious. 

“Dragonborn,” Teldryn says. “Her soul is-“

“Teldryn Sero, I will make you put up your own tent. Not everyone must know about my  _ soul _ ,” Elaine cuts in. “The moment isn’t suitably dramatic enough.”

“You’re  _ weird _ . You’re all weird,” Sera declares, getting up and heading somewhere. “I’m going to sit with the little people.”

“Our hero, our hero, claims a warriors heart!” Teldryn starts singing, his wife standing up and heading towards him with fire in hand. “I tell you, I tell you, the dragonborn comes!”

Teldryn is dodging out of the way, laughing. 

“With a voice wielding power of the ancient Nord arts-“

“I’m going to set you aflame once I get that fireproof armor off!”

“ _ Believe, believe, the dragonborn comes! _ I’m a dunmer, fire excites me love!”

“Is this flirting? Are they flirting right now,” Blackwall says dryly while they watch Elaine chase Teldryn around the fire. 

Varric, who’s too busy writing down the song Teldryn is singing, laughs. “Oh definitely.”

“It’s an end to the evil of all Skyrim’s foes,” Teldryn continues singing through laughter. “Beware, beware the Dragonborn comes.”

“This is the one place that song cannot follow me and you insist on bringing it here!” Elaine says, still waving her fire threateningly as Teldryn pops behind Iron Bull. 

“Don’t get me in the middle of this, unless that’s what you’d like,” Iron Bull says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

Adhlea groans, slumping in her seat and leaning against Blackwall. “They’re talking gross again.”

“I am retiring for the night, before you attract every bear in earshot,” Cassandra says, making her disgusted noise as she walks to her shared tent with Vivienne. 

Adhlea blinks, noticing Solas is gone. Huh. Must’ve slipped away. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,  _ Iron Bull, _ ” Teldryn says behind said man, starting to sing again. “For the darkness has passed, and the  _ legend _ yet grows!”

“How I remain married to you is a question for the ages. Mara is frowning deeply!” Elaine says. 

“You think I’m pretty,” The armored, helmeted elf declares. 

“ _ Unfortunately _ . Dibella would’ve liked to make you one of her priestesses,” Elaine says, before darting around Bull and grabbing her husband by his scarf. 

“No. Help. Please,” Teldryn says dryly. 

“You two are going to make me rich,” Varric calls while Elaine drags her husband away, grumbling about secrets and dunmer and bards named Sven while her husband laughs. 

“So. We just gonna ignore that “not from this plane of oblivion” comment?” Bull asks. 

“Yup,” Adhlea says, laying against Blackwall dramatically, because she’s a teen and that’s allowed. “Elaine is a Keeper. Keepers are always weird.”

They  _ are.  _ Adhlea has met at least four of them before now and they’re always weird. Might be the magic though, must do something odd once you have it long enough, makes you quirky. 

“Got it, Boss,” Bull says simply. 

—

Adhlea likes traveling with this many people. It reminds her of being with her clan. 

Though, her clan never bickered this much. 

“I had always thought blood magic could be easily abused, but using blood as a component of a protection ward, for example, is completely harmless,” Elaine says, waving a hand. 

“Completely- Herald, the apostate has finally gone mad,” Cassandra says. 

“Which one?” Adhlea, Solas and Elaine ask at the same time, making Adhlea snicker. 

“We are traveling with a blood mage, Maker have mercy,” Vivienne says, sounding completely done with their shit. 

“I specialize in Conjuration, technically, Madame. I’ve never had much reason to start bleeding to- well, actually, there was that one time.”

“Love, I don’t know if the dragon temple counted.”

“Well the door needed my blood to magically open, did it not- Oh, actually, I should’ve studied the runes on that, let me write that down for later.”

“Mages. Weird magicky shite,” Sera grumbles. “One arrow, Addy? One? For each?”

Adhlea is tempted. Only a little, though. 

“That’s as effective as shooting an arrow at the breach, Sera, and we already tried that,” Adhlea says. 

“I doubt the effectiveness of shooting arrows at tears in the veil, Herald,” Solas adds. 

“Trying is always good, though!” Elaine says from behind them. “I once had arrows that could- Oh. Well, that would panic you. Nevermind.”

“No no, continue Archmage, I am intrigued,” Vivienne says. 

“No, I think it would panic a few members of our party. Best say pointing arrows at the sky does sometimes do things, very, very bad things. Involving the sun.”

Teldryn snorts. 

“I don’t wanna know. Boss, don’t let her say whatever she’s gonna say,” Bull says. 

“Thank you for not scaring Iron Bull, Elaine,” Adhlea says to the woman, feeling a headache already coming on. 

They reach the gates of the Blades of Hassarian, and Adhlea nervously shows her Mercy’s Crest. 

The whole point of bringing everyone was for if they had to fight them anyways. 

“She has the Crest!” One of the gate guards shouts, opening the gates. 

Adhlea steps through, eyeing the Blades warily as she heads towards-

Oh. That’s a throne. 

_ Oh. That’s a very tall man.  _

“So, you wish to challenge me for the Blades!” The man shouts, standing. 

So. This is the man who killed and harassed her scouts. 

“Yeah, I wanna challenge you,” Adhlea calls back, drawing her staff and twirling it. “Do you accept?”

The leader laughs. 

“Alright girl, I accept your challenge. But just you, none of those tagalongs,” The man says. 

“ _ Should you look to be in need of help, we will help, _ ” Elaine murmurs, now just behind her, a comforting hand on her shoulder 

Adhlea nods. 

“Fine then. Just us.”

A Blade steps forward. 

“Andraste guide you!” He shouts, bringing an arm down, and then Adhlea is stepping forward, slamming a barrier around herself and dodging her opponent’s maul. 

He’s slow. She can work with that. 

With a wave of her staff, she’s frozen him, quickly moving behind to-

“Release the hounds!” The leader shouts, and Adhlea sees mabari being let out of their cages. Uh oh. 

“That’s not apart of the deal,” She hears Elaine say, and suddenly green light hits each of the mabari in quick succession. 

Adhlea focuses, remembering the lightning bolt spell Elaine had taught her. The whole ground is wet, this isn’t smart, but-

With two strikes of lightning to the face, and electricity setting Adhlea’s hair on end, the man falls with a cry. 

Adhlea looks around, checking for more enemies, but-

The Mabari are peacefully sitting. The Blades are cheering, and her Circle is looking grimly satisfied.

Okay. So… she did good?

“Good riddance, Herald, that man was a terrible leader,” A Blade says, the same one to wave the fight, coming up to her. 

“Er, yeah. So, order number one is to stop attacking Inquisition people, order number two is to report to Scout Harding at our camp for further orders?” Adhlea says. 

The blade nods. 

“As you wish, Herald.”

Well, guess she can double back to the Hinterlands again?

Ugh. The Hinterlands.  _ Bears _ . 

—

The Hinterlands are much more fun with Iron Bull there to fight the bears head on, at least. 

Iron Bull is laughing as his maul slams into one, and Adhlea hadn’t even had  _ lunch _ yet damn it all. 

“Aim for it’s throat!” Cassandra calls. 

“Ruining the fun, Seeker!” Iron Bull calls back, still grinning. 

Cassandra makes a disgusted noise and stabs into the bear’s open, roaring maw, making it choke and fall limp off of her sword. 

“You just severed it’s spine,” Elaine says, sounding impressed. 

“Stolen kill,” Iron Bull grumbles, but he doesn’t really sound bothered, sheathing his big cleaver looking axe. 

“How much farther to Redcliffe?” Cassandra asks, looking over at Adhlea. 

Adhlea pulls out her map that is now charmed to not set on fire, or get wet, or get slashed by determined terror demons. 

It’s been a long couple days, alright?

“Less than an hour,” Adhlea says, looking over at Elaine for confirmation. Elaine, who is currently healing Iron Bull’s slash he has down his chest. 

“You’re worse than the Companions, a group of honor bound mercenaries I know. Always running into the heat of it,” Elaine says, the slashes leaving silvery scars with a wave of her hand, before she looks back at Adhlea and blinks.

“Oh, I am just along for the ride, little dear. You’re running this show.”

Darn. 

Adhlea does  _ not _ sigh. She doesn’t. 

“Let me quickly skin this, since we’re so close to the town. The refugees need all the blankets they can get,” Elaine says, turning to the fallen bear and drawing a wicked looking dagger from…  _ somewhere.  _

“You’re really a jack of all trades, huh?” Iron Bull asks. 

“And a master of many of them, rather than none,” Elaine quips. “This, my friend, does not compare to the wilds of Skyrim.”

“And where is that?” Iron Bull asks. 

Elaine is cutting through the bear, now. 

“Far. Very far. Just know it’s colder and bandits are around every tree stump if you don’t face some manner of beast instead,” Elaine sounds fond, when she says this. 

Weird Keepers. Sera is right, magic makes you weird. 

“They make mages like you often?” Iron Bull asks. 

Teldryn laughs. 

“No. Not often at all,” Elaine says with a snicker, unbothered by the bear blood on her hands. “Adhlea, you know how to skin a bear, correct?” 

Adhlea rolls her eyes. 

“Yes, Hahren. I assume it’s about the same as wolves and deer,” Adhlea says, walking over anyways, and kneeling beside her. 

“Get the claws, they are useful for stamina potions,” Elaine hums, pulling another strange, dark dagger out of nowhere and handing it to Adhlea. 

Well. At least things seem to be calming down, and the mages are practically in the bag after a little negotiation!

—

The mages are not in the bag- no. Scratch that. The mages are in a bag, but it’s been tossed into a river and now Adhlea has to sprint after it and jump in to save them. 

_ Why is nothing ever easy?? _

After they had to meet a Tevinter Magister,  _ ew _ , after realizing Enchanter Fiona didn’t apparently recognize any of them and  _ apparently _ hadn’t been to Val Royeaux in a while, they then had to go into a chantry and  _ close a time shattering rift. _

Well. That’s dramatic. It’s not time shattering, just making time…  _ wobbly.  _

“Hahren, is this a running theme? Things being more complicated than they should be?” Adhlea asks once she tears the rift closed and Elaine is sending healing magic through her because she got hit by one of the wispy green things. 

“Oh definitely. Best get used to it now, and be wary for sudden dramatic betrayal,” Elaine hums cheerfully. 

“Oh I like her,” The mustached man who they found fighting the rift says. “How does that work, exactly?”

Adhlea blinks, trying to think back on both Elaine and Solas’s many theoretical  _ chats _ that she might have… blocked out. 

“You don’t even know do you? You just wiggle your fingers, and boom! Rift closed.”

Yeah that’s about right. 

“Yup,” Adhlea quips. “Who are you?”

The tan man, clearly not southern, grins. 

“Ah, getting ahead of myself again I see.” He does a small bow. “Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?”

Oh gosh,  _ more _ Tevinter?

“Another Tevinter, be cautious with this one,” Cassandra says, Adhlea looking back to see she’s slinging a bit of demon gook off of her sword and looking very badass. 

“Watch the pretty ones,” Bull adds, arms crossed and eye on the mage. 

“I think he seems very nice, little dear, perhaps we should see why we’ve been called here before slinging accusations?” Elaine hums, unconcerned. 

Well. If Elaine trusts it. 

“I see she is the reasonable one of this group,” Dorian Pavus says. 

“The opposite,” Teldryn pipes in. 

Adhlea doesn’t sigh. She really doesn’t. 

What next occurs is talk about  _ time magic _ and changing things and Tevinter cults. 

Adhlea needs a long nap, after all this. A very, very long nap. 

“Will you travel with us, then? Since you are headed for Haven anyways?” Adhlea asks the man once the serious business is all through. 

“Even if your friends advise against it?” Dorian asks, eyebrows raised. 

“I have the glowing hand,” Adhlea says. “If they’re going to make me do all the rift sealing and crap they can deal with it.”

Dorian grins. 

“Oh a spark in this one. Fine then, lead on!”

And that’s how they get another person in this little makeshift clan Adhlea is building. Maybe she can convince some of them to cuddle? These shem apparently don’t do that unless they’re blood related. It’s weird. 

—

Adhlea regrets everything. 

Vivienne wants to be mage elitist, Cassandra wants to be cautious of everything the chantry didn’t prepare her for, Solas is very against both the Qun  _ and _ slavery  **_and_ ** the circles. Sera just wants people to act normal and not talk about magic near her. Elaine keeps saying things that unnerve people and Teldryn doesn’t mind edging her on. Dorian has no clue how to  _ not _ talk Tevinter-y. 

Varric and Blackwall are fine. Adhlea likes them. They don’t  _ bicker.  _

“Varric and Blackwall are my favorites!” Adhlea declares after a too long day with everyone being stupid assholes.

“Aw, I’m flattered Bluebell,” Varric says, grinning. 

“Neither of you argue. I appreciate that.  _ Immensely _ ,” Adhlea says with a groan, a headache banging around her head. 

“I’m sure I can come up with something,” Blackwall grumbles. 

“No-  _ no. Do not, _ ” Adhlea hisses. “You’re all very nice but I have only so much energy for your petty fighting while my hand is probably going to blow up some day and I’m the only one who can fix the stupid sky. So.  **_Hush._ ** ”

Immediate quiet. 

Oh. 

“Shit,” Adhlea says with a sigh. 

She is not very good at this hero thing, is she?

“Point taken, Bluebell. You’re at today’s limit. Everyone hear that?” Varric says, calling to the rest of Adhlea’s ragtag group of miscreants and mischief creators. 

There’s a chorus of agreement and Adhlea could cry with relief. 

“A headache potion, little dear,” Elaine murmurs, popping up at her side and holding out a pink bottle. 

“Not green this time?” Adhlea asks. 

“Those bottles are usually for poisons,” Elaine explains quietly. “You can go hide in your tent if you’d like to be away for a moment.”

Adhlea takes the potion and downs it in one go, happy that it doesn’t taste super gross. 

“That’s a great idea. Wake me up if there’s demons or dragonlings or  _ cultists _ now,” Adhlea grumbles, walking over to her tent and flopping onto her bedroll. No more stupid adults bickering about stupid stuff while they’re fighting to keep the world from ripping apart. At least for now. 

—

The Iron Bull doesn’t expect to see Elaine Marquardt, this company’s resident healer, to come out of her tent ramrod straight in the middle of the night and sit quietly at the fire. 

He’s on watch, so he technically has a reason. 

From the stiffness of her frame- definitely night terrors. The slack expression and almost glazed eyes. He’s seen it enough in Saheron. 

“You alright?” The Iron Bull asks. He knows the answer, but sometimes people need to be grounded. 

The woman’s gold eyes snap over to him. He’s never seen her with her black hair down, and she’s missing the black and gold lipstick she usually has. 

“Cheery,” She drawls, eyes focusing. That’s good, better than being lost in memories. “Have you been disturbed during your watch?”

Redirection and what’s probably genuine curiosity, concern, even. 

The Iron Bull shrugs. “Those wards you and the other apostate put up are sturdy. Haven’t seen anything yet.”

There’s that. Elaine seems to twist magic around to do whatever she wants, completely different from Dalish or the Sarabaas The Iron Bull had encountered. Hell, even the mages in this group weren’t like that, except for her. 

Elaine nods, not losing eye contact. “Good. I’ve made enough of those that they should keep out even the most determined of giants,” She says. 

She looks young. He’d put her around twenty four to twenty five, but you never know with these humans. She’s not though. Too much experience. Too knowing. She’s seen shit.

Must be a mage thing. He won’t ask. 

“Wouldn’t mind fighting one of those,” The Iron Bull says with a smile. 

Elaine rolls her eyes, turning to look at the fire again, body too relaxed now to be natural and a smile in place. If The Iron Bull didn’t know how she looked when she walked out of her tent he would assume she’s fine. Experienced in hiding body language and tells. 

“Yes I suppose you wouldn’t. Proving you exist with every fallen foe,” Elaine says. An Orleisian name and a smooth upper class accent, elven husband and magic unlike anything The Iron Bull has heard about. A puzzle. 

Bigger puzzle if that from a different plane crap was true. 

“So. Why do you follow the kid around? Besides the Tama instincts,” The Iron Bull asks. 

“I’ll assume Tama means some sort of motherly thing. Truthfully?” Elaine pauses. “Because someone needs to keep her alive, and equipped. Someone needs to make sure she’s as safe as possible in this kind of life.”

So. Definitely lacking much selfishness in that declaration, but he’ll leave the possible “ _ can get something out of it _ ” on the table. 

“You sound like you know from experience,” The Iron Bull presses casually, seeing if he can catch her on that. 

Elaine laughs, it’s not her usual one full of humor. 

“I was barely older than her when I killed my first dragon,” Elaine says, voice still filled with hollow amusement. “I can imagine how she feels right now, the world on her shoulders and expectations.”

Elaine stands, stretching. 

“Well. Regardless, we follow her. Goodnight, The Iron Bull.”

And with that, the anomaly has disappeared back into her tent and The Iron Bull still has more questions than answers. 

The Iron Bull grumbles a Quanlat curse and focuses on his watch again. There’s always next time. And he wants to see what she meant by having a type, because last he checked elves couldn’t have grey skin or horns, and her husband isn’t as tall as him.

—

After an hour of weird silence the next day, Adhlea gives all of the adults a look. 

“My bicker meter is refilled, feel free to go at it,” Adhlea tells them all, eyes narrowed. “The silence is worse, honestly.”

Oh and go at it they do. 

“So, you are an apostate?” Dorian asks Elaine tentatively. 

“Technically trained and Archmage at a college of magic, but everyone here is also technically apostates. So yes, but also no!” Elaine says cheerfully. 

“That leaves me with more questions,” Dorian says. 

“She always does that, Pavus, leave it be and hope she doesn’t start trying to explain weird shit,” Varric says, looking over at the mage. 

“You asked me if I knew how to make a crossbow, Serah Tethras, I explained why, didn’t I?”

“You talked about vampires, Mama Bear. Those aren’t real.”

Elaine opens her mouth, but Varric quickly cuts in. 

“ _ Not real _ . I don’t wanna know.”

“Back to the original topic, I need to check if your education was just as abismal as I’m seeming to get from the southern circle mages,” Elaine says, looking over at Dorian again. “The reliance on staves as foci is depressing me. Immensely.”

“ _ Abismal _ ? I was trained in one of the best schools in Tevinter,” Dorian says haughtily. 

Elaine sighs. 

“That is what I was worried for, young man. Feel free to join Adhlea’s lessons with me if you wish. The less you rely on your magic stick the sooner I can try and make you good at stabbing things as well.”

“Stabbing- Herald, what have I signed myself up for?” Dorian asks, looking over at Adhlea. 

Adhlea raises her hands and shrugs. “Elaine has a collecting strays thing, in her husband's words. It’s okay, I’m a stray too.” 

Dorian sputters. 

“I am not a  _ pet _ , Archmage Marquardt.”

“Of course not, dear! You’re too smart. Speaking of, you must tell me more of this time magic.”

“There is no such thing,” Solas interjects. 

“Agreeing with the elven apostate, for once,” Vivienne adds. 

“Oh do not allow your rigid ideas of what  _ should _ be blind you, you are both too intelligent for it,” Elaine says with a wave of her hand. “The fact stands that a man used time magic with better access to the fade. I wish to understand how and why he was able to do so.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you make that much sense, Lady Marquardt,” Blackwall says. 

Elaine laughs. “I do have my moments.”

“Few and far between as they are,” Teldryn snarks on his horse beside Elaine. 

“You’re a very rude man, and you know it. It is a miracle our children grew up correctly.”

“Correctly is a loose term. They didn’t die, and now run around like terrors to behold.”

“Terrors? Our little Aedra? Oh no. You must be mistaken. Ignoring Aventus’s arson streak.”

“And Sophie’s poisonings.”

“ _ Lucia _ came out right. Such a good girl.”

“She could crack a man in half without blinking, love.”

At least this bickering is safer. Less likely to get them all stabbing each other.

Adhlea is pointedly ignoring the fact that Teldryn and Elaine apparently raise people who have arson and poison streaks. 

“Your children have  _ arson streaks _ ?” Cassandra asks, though by her tone she is clearly fighting with her ability to be surprised at this point. 

“Aventus had a troubled time as a teen,” Elaine says sagely. “It’s best to let them get it out of their system while they’re young and forgivable in the eyes of the law.”

“I cannot believe I allowed you to take those children with you,” Cassandra says. 

“Darling Seeker, you allowed me nothing! My actions are my own, after all.”

Adhlea sighs, but it’s more fond than annoyed this time. Clan is clan, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts on how unabashedly weird Elaine is?


	6. “Is it not better to be born evil, and overcome your very nature?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update, whoop whoop

“You wouldn’t!” 

Elaine laughs, already tossing off her over robes. 

“Varric said he’d give me five sovereigns, Seeker,” Elaine hums, and Adhlea looks dubiously at the ice cold river. “I would hate to lose an easy bet.”

“You are going to get yourself sick- Herald, stop this foolishness,” Cassandra says, looking over at Adhlea. 

“Oh don’t look at me, I want to see her catch a fish with her bare hands,” Adhlea says, holding up her hands. 

Elaine wades into the water, not even flinching at the cold. 

“Never a dull moment with you Southerners, is there?” Dorian quips. 

Elaine watches the water for a moment, and then-

“No fucking way!” Sera crows, sounding as close to delighted as Adhlea’s ever heard her. “Do it again!”

Elaine is holding a large fish by its gills, looking over at Varric with a smirk. 

“Knew it was a stupid bet when you got that innocent look on your face,” Varric grumbles. 

They eat fish that night. Adhlea has no clue why Elaine has learned any of this shit but at least it tastes nice?

—

“These… Falmer.”

Uh oh. 

Elaine sighs. “Yes. The Snow Elves. Ask, Solas.”

“How long ago was…?”

“Several eras. Roughly two thousand years since their enslavement if I had to place an exact number. What few of them that remain untainted-” Elaine cuts herself off. Adhlea looks back to see her fingers have tightened on the reigns of her horse. 

“Some yet live?” Solas asks, sounding a bit fascinated.

“Few. Very, very few. I myself have only found five, two I was forced to kill myself. The long lives of the mer is not something to be happy for, in this instance,” Elaine says quietly. 

“I… have not heard that term outside the fade,” Solas says. 

Adhlea is glad Sera is scouring ahead today. She doesn’t want her interrupting this morbidly fascinating conversation the group is overhearing. 

“I would expect that.” Elaine doesn’t explain further. 

Weird. 

Of course, then bandits attack them. 

—

Once they finally make it back to Haven it’s almost night time and Adhlea would very much just like to take a bath and then sleep for two days. 

Unfortunately, she needs to go to a war meeting tomorrow at noon, but a girl can hope. 

“Let’s make sure the babes haven’t set anything on fire,” Teldryn says dryly while his wife gets off her horse with the practiced ease of someone who’s been doing it for years. 

Elaine pets her horse. 

“They’re likely fine. I still think I should send for Lydia to watch them, she mastered letting in enough chaos to keep entertained but not hurt,” Elaine hums. 

“Lydia would kill you if she had to come the way we did,” Teldryn says. 

“Oh I’m sure she can manage.” Elaine sighs, while the others bustle about. “Fine. I’ll get her myself. Adhlea?”

Adhlea looks over at the pair, blinking. 

“I’ll be gone a day, try not to… Actually, you’ll be fine. I trust you,” Elaine says with a grin and  _ what.  _

“Wait- where? Why?” Adhlea asks, but Elaine is already getting back on her horse. 

“Don’t question it, kid, the sooner she leaves the less likely she is to get distracted,” Teldryn says. “Come back soon, love, I can’t exactly kiss you goodbye in this crowd.”

Adhlea looks around and sees about all of their traveling companions are watching what’s going on. 

“Wait, the apostate is leaving?” Cassandra asks, looking up from a report that’s just been shoved in her hand by a scout.

Elaine is already riding off??

“Don’t worry! I’ll be back with a friend! And probably money!!”

Adhlea slow blinks at the not at all tired seeming woman who is riding back out into the Frostbacks. 

“I’m surprised she lasted this long,” Teldryn says with a huff. “She’ll be back in roughly a day, two or three if she gets distracted. Feel free to disperse now.”

Teldryn seems very unconcerned by this?

Adhlea promptly decides she is going to bathe and sleep before she deals with whatever mess that was, and starts walking to her cabin. 

Sera starts walking beside her. 

“Wanna drink?” Sera asks, pretty face curling with mischief as usual. 

Well. Adhlea can bathe, drink, then sleep?

“Sure, Sera,” Adhlea says, and after the words leave her mouth she’s being dragged to the tavern. 

Okay. Drinks, bath… sleep? Please?

They settle in a corner of the tavern surrounded by the growing merriment of the evening, a few cheers going up at the sight of Adhlea and Sera. 

“The Herald’s back!” One man shouts. The men at his table raise their drinks. 

Adhlea just gives them a tired grin, dropping into a seat at an empty table, Sera sitting beside her. 

Varric comes slinking in not too long after, while Adhlea and Sera are debating how worth it it is to dump snow on Chancellor Roderick, and he takes a seat at their table while going through some papers. 

“Letters?” Adhlea asks, peering over at said letters. 

Varric flicks her nose, and she backs off with a grumbled “Ow.”

“Nosey. Yes, letters, Bluebell. Your Nightengale wanted me to look around for any history on our Mama Bear,” Varric explains, waving Flissa over for a drink. 

“She’s all magicky, probably lived in the woods, what else is there?” Sera says, wrinkling her nose. 

“Nothing at all, actually,” Varric says. “Nobody’s heard of her, first time she was spotted was at the Conclave. Same goes for Scarves.”

Well, Adhlea should’ve expected that. She wouldn’t be surprised if Elaine is from very very far away like she’s already implied. 

“Apostates are  _ supposed _ to be hard to find,” Sera says, chugging some of her ale. “All. Secret-y and shite. Just means she knows what she’s doing.”

“I thought you didn’t like her?” Adhlea asks, curiously. 

“She talks like she knows things, but at least you know she actually  _ knows _ them. Never tries to pretend shite like Vivy,” Sera declares. “An’ she cares about the little people. As long as she stops talking weird shite near me we’re good.”

Huh. 

Flissa comes over and Varric orders a drink.

“Well, true as it is, the spymaster is getting frustrated. Wouldn’t be surprised if she sends a tail after Mama Bear to see who this friend she’s bringing is and where she’s from,” Varric says lowly. 

“She’ll send her scouts on a wild chase,” Sera says with a snort. “I can barely track her when we’re stuck in the same  _ camp _ .”

Adhlea hadn’t realized Sera paid that much attention to Elaine? Besides being annoyed?

Well. Suppose she should’ve expected that. Nevermind. 

Adhlea takes a deep drink of her ale. 

“I think I know who she’s bringing back,” Adhlea says, and Varric and Sera both look very interested to know. 

“Oh? Do tell, Bluebell,” Varric says, pulling out his journal. 

Adhlea sighs deeply, with feeling. 

“Lydia is one of her companions from when she was younger, I think? Helped raise her and Teldryn’s kids. The two of them only ever speak fondly of her,” Adhlea explains, racking her brain for more details. “I think she’s a housecarl? What’s a housecarl?”

Varric’s eyebrows have gone up high. 

“A noble bodyguard, sworn to serve by honor and shit. You see them most often here in Ferelden. That only adds to her weirdness, doesn’t it?” Varric says, writing something down. 

“Oh, I knew she had that big people accent for a reason!” Sera crows. “Wonder which pissshit pissed her off enough to make her go full little people, ‘sides magic.”

Adhlea only got about half of that second bit, but she gets the gist. 

Well, she guesses they’ll just have to see what happens when she gets back?

—

It’s been two days. 

Elaine is back, with three people? And a very suspicious sack??

She’s talking with a black haired, pale woman in armor like Teldryn’s, but her face is easily seen. She looks as old as Elaine is probably supposed to, around forty, the beginnings of smile lines on her face and crows feet beside her eyes. 

“My Thane-”

“Shhhh, they think I’m normal, here,” Elaine says quickly, waving a hand at the woman. “No Thane crap.”

“General, then? Guildmaster? Listener? Harbringer?”

“ _ That’s worse, and you are very rude. _ ”

Adhlea has no clue what is up, but she doesn’t get paid enough to care. 

Elaine dismounts, a suspicious sack still over her shoulder, and comes up to check Adhlea over. 

“Have you been eating? You look pale,” Elaine fusses. 

“Mom, you’re going to overwhelm the girl,” The only man with Elaine says, amused, and-

“Mom?” Adhlea squeaks, looking over at the man. 

He’s in light armor, darkly colored and clearly built for movement. He has the same gold line as Elaine going through the middle of his bottom lip, and black paint covering the top one. 

Dark hair pulled up in a much smaller bun than his mother’s, dark brown eyes, speckled with freckles, roguishly handsome. 

He grins, dismounting from his horse and doing a small bow. 

“Aventus Marquardt-Aretino,” He introduces. 

“The one with an arson streak?” Adhlea asks, suddenly peering at him with more suspicion. 

Aventus sighs, deeply. 

“He’s much less likely to burn things now!” The final person, a young woman with short blonde hair to her jaw and the same gold line on her lip and chin, interjects. She hops off of her horse, tugging at the dark red knitted scarf she has around her neck. She has black warpaint coming from the bottom of her eyes like teartracks. 

“Lucia Marquardt, it’s lovely to meet you,” Lucia introduces herself. 

“Are those my favorite anklebiters?” Adhlea turns to see Teldryn walking up. 

“Da!” Lucia shouts, darting forward and Adhlea watches her jump into her armored father’s arms, grinning ear to ear. 

Adhlea looks back over, once again drawn back to the suspicious sack. 

“You said one person?” Adhlea asks, wondering about the sack. It can’t be person sized, so what is in the sack? Hmmm. 

Elaine hums. “I ran into Aventus and Lucia along the way to get Lydia. They insisted on seeing what project I have gotten myself into this time. How goes the business with the mages?”

Adhlea grimaces. 

“The Magister has invited me to his taken castle for “negotiations”, but it’s got trap written all over it.”

Adhlea is glad Elaine is back, she can give her good advice on dealing with evil magic men. 

“Are we infiltrating a castle?” Aventus pipes in, smirking. 

“That depends, dear. And remember what I said about not freaking out the common populace,” Elaine says, reaching up to flick her son’s cheek. 

Aventus snorts. “Yes, mother.”

“Apostate!”

Elaine grins. “Seeker! I see you are as radiant as ever.”

Cassandra comes up with narrowed eyes on all three of Elaine’s guests. 

“Who are these people? More apostates?” Cassandra asks, arms crossed. 

“This is Aventus, my son,” Elaine introduces the man beside her, then points to her daughter who is still attached to her father like a tree. “And Lucia, my daughter. Finally Lydia the Honorbound beside me.”

Cassandra blinks, eyes going wide. 

“You truly were not jesting about your age,” Cassandra says, looking down at the woman now with new eyes. 

“It’s the elf blood,” Aventus adds cheerfully, and Adhlea notes he has the same accent as his mother. “Lucy? Could you avoid crushing our dear father? We only get one.”

And so two of Elaine’s adult children join the Inquisition in their efforts to make the sky open up again, preferably close it.

Lucia is a peacemaker, calm and kind and quick to comfort. Aventus is her opposite, uncaring if he ruffles feathers, ready to take action and pushing against authority. 

Together, though very different seeming at first glance, they seem to get along well and temper each other. 

Lydia, Elaine’s housecarl and long time friend, takes over taking care of her children with the begrudging grace of someone very used to this. 

“My Thane, you are ridiculous and I thought you should know that,” Lydia says dryly while two children climb her tall, muscled form. 

“You say that because you  _ love  _ me,” Elaine teases. 

“Thane, if I didn’t love you I would absolutely not put up with you this long,” Lydia grumbles. “Come along, strays, we have things to do and places to be. Who wants to climb trees?”

“Are you and…?” Adhlea asks, slowly, almost unwilling for an answer. 

Elaine blinks. “Oh? Well, there was that one time, but no.” Elaine stretches her arms above her head and Adhlea hears a few of her joints crack. “She is family nonetheless.”

See? Keeper. Builds her clan wherever she walks. Adhlea  _ knew it.  _

—

“Time is Akatosh’s domain, so, in theory, I should be able to counter anything this Magister throws at us,” Is murmured. 

Solas is quiet, unmoving and invisible near the window of this cabin. 

“We should’ve brought Francois,” One of Elaine’s adult children says with a sigh. “You and him could’ve debated about this much better than we could.”

“Oh come now, dear sister, we’re children of the Dragonborn. If we knew little about magic we wouldn’t have lasted this long,” The other adult child says, the man this time. 

“I’ve convinced Dorian Pavus, the Tevinter mage, to give me his notes on the magic,” Elaine says. “As far as I can tell, it’s all much more rudimentary than an Elder Scroll, but far more exact.”

The woman sighs. 

“Should any time shenanigans come afoot and I am to disappear, you will all go back through the Eluvian. This world is at its breaking point and without me or, Dibella forbid, Adhlea, it will tear itself to pieces.”

Contingencies, then.  _ How _ does she know of the Eluvian? 

Solas has had his suspicions since she used the word Mer, spoke of Snow Elves. But for her to have been from that far, and for the paths to have not broken after this many ages…

A miracle. Solas will have to investigate further. 

“You are, presumably, finding a way to counter this magic though, correct?” The man asks. 

“Aw, so much faith in me Aventus. I remember when you were so much tinier, so much less murdery!”

“He was doing the Black Sacrament when you found him, love, he’s just as murdery if not  _ more _ .”

Solas steps away, footsteps silent. Any longer is risking being found by this expectation defying woman and he will not break his cover for this. 

Once again, more questions, but perhaps more answers as well. 

—

They’re springing the trap, though it means Adhlea can’t take everyone this time. 

Elaine and Teldryn, definitely. Dorian is coming through the tunnel. Blackwall? Blackwall. Oh, and Bull. He is, technically, her bodyguard. 

And so, they ride out. Though Lucia and Aventus are apparently coming through the tunnels with Dorian and Leliana’s agents. 

“So, your eldest is definitely an assassin.”

Adhlea chokes on her water she’d been drinking, patting her chest and coughing. 

Elaine sighs. 

“He is very blatantly one of those types, isn’t he? I tried to push him towards mercenary work at least, but he’s all sneak and daggers in the dark,” Elaine informs Iron Bull. 

“You let him do such immoral work?” Blackwall interjects. 

Teldryn laughs. “Let him? She’s the Listener of his-”

“ _ Teldryn _ .”

“No he’s got a  _ shining _ endorsement. Learned from the best, really.”

“Do I bring up your time as a Morag Tong?” Elaine hisses. 

“I never killed an Emperor,” Teldryn says dryly. 

Adhlea has just finished coughing. 

“ _ EMPEROR _ ?!” Adhlea shouts, making birds fly from the trees nearby. 

“Akatosh give me strength,” Elaine says mournfully. 

Blackwall is visibly doing the math to see if Elaine killed the last Orleisian Emperor, and apparently does not like that math at all. 

“Shiiit, that mean Emperor Florian really did get assassinated?” Iron Bull asks the air. 

“ _ No- _ I did  _ not _ kill any of your thrice damned Orleisians,” Elaine says. “Emperor Titus Mede II of the Imperial Empire. The only reason any of you may know this is because I highly doubt you will ever reach the Imperial Empire.”

Adhlea’s Brain is still trying to wrap around this, she needs a moment. 

“How much you get paid?” Iron Bull asks. 

“Handsomely, but it wasn’t for the money,” Elaine says, sighing. “Under his leadership we were going to lose the next Great War. Of course, I didn’t realize them the fucking council would appoint a puppet Emperor and I would have to do all the fighting the Thalmor myself, but such is hindsight.”

Adhlea only got some of that. 

“Not a single lie,” Iron Bull says contemplatively. “All of Red’s predictions are wrong, that’s gonna piss her off.”

“So you did it to help?” Blackwall asks. “Not for money or power?”

There’s weight in those words. 

“I’d be lying if I said I had no selfish reasons,” Elaine says. “I had joined the Dark Brotherhood for a way to get my magical skills in shape to kill a much larger evil, but killing Emperor Mede is one of my few regrets.”

They’re awkwardly quiet until they make camp, Elaine frowning the whole way and sometimes making murmured conversation with her husband in that odd language she uses at times. 

They all settle around the fire, quiet. 

“So, what are the Morag Tong? You mentioned them earlier.”

Adhlea looks up, looking between all the adults. 

“Teldryn was an assassin too, before I met him. Long before I met him,” Elaine says, leaned against her husband’s side. 

“I did it for money,” Teldryn says frankly. “And I got lots of it. Ended up liking Mercenary work more.”

“At least you’re honest?” Adhlea says, thinking about how she’s learning swordsmanship from an  _ assassin.  _

Actually that’s badass. 

“At least you didn’t do it just for the killing, Qun usually ends up putting those types down,” Iron Bull says, and Adhlea’s eyes widen. 

“Like dogs?” Adhlea asks, very unnerved, which she should’ve expected this because they sew up mages’ mouths and treat them like animals. 

“They always end up killing more than just enemies, it’s too messy,” Iron Bull explains. 

Elaine is grimacing. 

“I’ve fought too many of those types, they’re worse than the glory types. They usually end up as necromancers,” Elaine says, clearly thinking of a direct example. 

“The Vint is a necromancer,” Iron Bull points out. 

“He doesn’t murder women and bring them back to life to live with him in an ice cave,” Elaine says with a grossed out look on her face. “Additionally, he’s entirely too soft for murdering for murder.”

“You killed someone who did that?” Adhlea asks. “People like that  _ exist?? _ ”

“It’s one of the only kills I vividly remember enjoying, since I unbound all of his corpses and let them do the work,” Elaine says. “Sometimes killing is not only necessary, it is also a  _ public service _ , little dear.”

“What, you don’t get satisfied when you cut off three limbs at once?” Iron Bull says, grinning. “That takes skill.”

Elaine rolls her eyes. 

“I take the most satisfaction from putting people back together, but yes. Satisfaction is hard when your preferred element elicits the most screaming.”

Adults are weird and morbid. Adhlea has decided. 

—

The Iron Bull watches Elaine Marquardt go through the five stages of grief quickly when she sees the ash spot that used to be Boss and the Vint, before green magic smacks into Alexius’s chest and leaves him paralyzed. 

She walks up slowly. 

“You will tell me who you work for. You will tell me how far forward or back they are. You will tell me this, or I will make your every second agony,” She states, slow, clinical, now standing over his prone form and plucking his amulet out of his hands. 

He knew she had a steel spine since he saw her take charge for the kid that first time. That was her letting Boss learn how to lead, now she’s stepped up.

Shit. Boss. 

Elaine plucks a bottle of something out of her robes, grabs the Magister’s still shocked open mouth, and pours it in, massaging his throat to make it go down. 

“That is what you people call mage bane,” Elaine says slowly. “When you can move again, you will be helpless.”

“What now, Boss?” The Iron Bull asks Elaine, because it’s clear who’s boss now. 

“Save it. Adhlea and Dorian are likely alive, just lost,” Elaine says and the magister jerks out of his paralysis. “Love? Hold him.”

Teldryn moves as he’s bid, tugging the Magister up and holding him back by his arms. The Magister’s kid, Felix, looks away. 

“You have no right!” The Magister chokes out. 

“You’ve unlawfully invaded the home of an Arl, you  _ fool _ , I have every right,” Elaine says with a laugh. It’s really not a nice laugh. “Talk, or I will start with knives instead of magic.”

Right. Assassin. She’s got morals, but evidently this one doesn’t factor into them. 

“My master will save my son and destroy you, you  _ wilds witch _ ,” Alexius says. Wrong answer. 

A small fist lands in the Magister’s stomach, he doubles over as much as he can with his arms behind his back, and The Iron Bull and Blackwall share a look. 

“Who is your master?” Elaine asks again. 

The Magister says a Tevene curse and gets another punch to the stomach for his trouble. 

“Felix, you do not need to see this,” Elaine says, looking over at the deeply uncomfortable young man. 

So she doesn’t hate him for being related to the Magister. Good to know. 

—

Elaine is unbearably tired. 

She’s fairly good at pretending otherwise, but it’s not everyday she must torture information out of a man and then use an Elder Scroll. 

Nothing permanent of course, she’s not heartless, though arguably healing all of the damage she did like it was nothing might be worse. 

“If I know anything about these things, opening the scroll at the spot should be enough to let me see where Adhlea and Dorian are,” Elaine murmurs to her husband, holding out the scroll with a grimace. 

“Have at it, my impossible wife,” Teldryn says, and part of her wishes they didn’t have to hide his face. Sometimes she just wants to kiss her husband, reactions be damned. 

Elaine pulls open the scroll, focusing her intent-

“Dibella’s tits,” Elaine hisses, blinking away the light and face to face with Adhlea and Dorian, in a small cell pacing. 

“Elaine!” Adhlea says, face bright. “What’s going on? Time magic? You’re very… misty.”

For once Elaine is glad the laws of magic like to ignore her, the last spawn of Akatosh. 

“If I’m doing this correctly, I should be able to hand over the amulet used to take you here and take you back,” Elaine says, pulling the amulet out of her pocket and holding it out to the two. 

“How are you doing this?” Dorian asks, eyes wide. 

“ _ Magic _ ,” Elaine says dryly. 

Adhlea snickers, grabbing the amulet. 

“Do not fumble with those calculations, Dorian, I quite like the both of you as not splats on the floor. Oh, also, apparently the Elder One intends on assassinating the Empress and raising a demon army. See you soon!”

With that, the scroll’s power decides she’s had enough fun and Elaine blinks, back in the present. 

“Well, they are alive, and I am fairly certain I broke at least four laws of magic doing that,” Elaine says contemplatively. Time travel, handing over non corporeal objects and making them corporeal-

A portal forms, and Elaine hops out of it’s way. 

“-I cannot believe-“ Ah, there’s Adhlea. 

Adhlea turns, unharmed, and pouts at Elaine. It’s adorable. 

“You can’t just drop bombshells like that, Hahren,” Adhlea says, and Elaine is very, very glad that she is alive. The way she felt when all that was left was ash-

Unimportant. Nevermind. 

“What’s this about a demon army? And you left a note in the cell we were in! About red lyrium,” Adhlea says. 

Elaine blinks. Did she? Well, one must trust their mysterious, nonexistent future self. 

“I’m sure future me thought it was important. Did it say ‘a lot of red lyrium’ or ‘don’t worry about the red lyrium’?” Elaine asks. It’s a very important distinction. 

“A lot. It said a lot,” Dorian says, ever the helpful man. He looks like he needs more food though. 

“Well then, let’s be wary for that. Oh, by the way, we’ve allied with the mages and the King of Ferelden came by.” She’d almost forgotten about that bit, considering the King had walked in on her holding a knife threateningly at the Magister’s neck. 

Luckily, Elaine isn’t Thane of every hold and darling of the Imperial court for no reason, even if he saw her hold a knife threateningly. 

“Well, suppose it all worked out?” Adhlea says, looking very concerned. 

“It did indeed, little dear, now let’s quickly vacate the premises before the Arl kicks us out himself.”

All in all, not bad. Elaine is eternally great fun she remembered to bring her Elder Scrolls. 

—

“So, what was that scroll?” Dorian asks. 

“Something that could blind you and turn you mad,” Elaine says grimly. 

“And you used it?” Blackwall says, aghast. 

“It’s different for me,” Elaine says. “I, unfortunately, don’t get to abide by the laws of how things are meant to work.”

“Lady Marquardt, remind me to never get on your bad side for many reasons,” Blackwall says, shaking his head. Adhlea agrees.

“Don’t worry! I’m sure you won’t,” Lucia pipes up from behind them. It’s not as comforting as she probably hoped. 

“How many siblings do you have?” The Iron Bull asks, looking over at Lucia. 

“Legally?” Aventus asks blandly. 

“Sure,” The Iron Bull says with a snort. 

“Ten including me, nine of us adopted, one an accident,” Aventus says, grinning. 

“Nina was not an accident, Aventus Marquardt-Aretino, do not make me come back there,” Elaine says, using her mom voice. 

“Yes, that’s exactly why you and Teldryn finally got married. Not because of our  _ not _ accident sibling at all,” Aventus says innocently. 

“I’m trying to imagine having two siblings, let alone nine,” Dorian says, faintly. “How is your hair fighting the grey? How have you not died from stress?”

“Nina came later,” Lucia comforts. “It actually wasn’t that bad, we have many aunts and uncles.”

“Nine siblings,” Dorian says, looking stressed at the thought of it. 

“And Cassandra was getting onto you for taking in those kids from Val Royeaux,” Adhlea says. “You’re like, the clan mother of all clan mothers.”

“You would’ve made a good Tamasarin,” Bull says contemplatively. 

“From what I understand I’d have had my mouth sewn shut first,” Elaine says dryly. 

“Kinky,” Aventus says. 

“Aventus, I will shove you off that horse,” Lucia says, and though she doesn’t look like her mother the face she’s making is all her. 

“Aw, is baby Lucy upset? I’ll watch my words, don’t want to taint the youth-“

“I’m going to spar with you and I’m going to kick your freckled  _ ass _ .”

Elaine sighs. 

“My loves, you aren’t children anymore. Especially you, Aventus, you’re almost forty, stop antagonizing your sister.”

“I’m a child at heart!” 

“And in face too, grow a beard,” Lucia grumbles. 

“The beard wouldn’t fit under my Brotherhood armor, dear Lucy. Not all of us can manage a beard like Hroar’s,” Aventus snarks. 

“Lady Adhlea, is it wise to start dragging around a pair of siblings across thedas as well?” Blackwall says. 

Adhlea blanches. More bickering. 

The Iron Bull laughs at her expression.  _ Rude _ . 

—

“And that is how you make a man choke on his own blood.”

“ _ Aventus. _ ”

“What? This is a very important skill!”

“She is seven.  _ Seven _ ,” Lucia hisses. 

“And I will ensure no man can underestimate her and live.”

Adhlea blinks slowly at the pair of siblings and the two kids Elaine grabbed in Orlais. Heris is the boy, and Senna is the girl, Adhlea thinks. 

“Should I ask?” Adhlea wonders aloud. 

“ _ Please _ ,” Aventus says, looking delighted. 

“Nevermind. I don’t want to now. How are you settling into Haven?” Adhlea asks, crouching down where they’re all sitting in a suspiciously dry and snowless spot. 

“We’re settling in just fine, thank you for asking,” Lucia says with a bright smile. She really is pretty. “It helps that Mom already made enough room in that cabin for many, so we didn’t really have to fight for accommodations.”

“There are many recruits to fight,” Aventus says, grinning. “And anklebiters here to entertain.” As he says that, he goes to start tickling the two kids. 

It’s very domestic of him, and looks off considering his rogue exterior. 

“And Elaine’s housecarl? Lydia? Is she doing well?” Adhlea asks. 

“They’re more sheildsisters than housecarl and Thane at this point,” Lucia says with a shake of her head. “But yes, Aunt Lydia is settling well. This is far from the oddest thing my mother has asked of her.”

“Should I ask what the oddest is?” Adhlea asks. 

At Aventus’s look she very quickly decides,  _ no _ , she doesn’t want to know. 

The mages are going to be here tomorrow, and after a day of rest…

Adhlea looks up at the breach. 

“That, little Herald, is a nasty piece of magic,” Aventus says, and Adhlea looks back down at him. 

He has his dark eyes on her softly glowing mark. 

“Sithis watch over you while you fix this mess. You will need it.”

Fun. So much trust in her abilities here. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So two of Elaine’s children have appeared! And Lydia! Lydia is used to Elaine just dropping kids on her lap so this isn’t new.


	7. “Drink for the thirsty, food for the hungry!”

“So. You tortured him?”

Adhlea thinks this is going to be one of those conversations she doesn’t want to be near!

“Yes.”

A simple admittance. Why can’t they have one normal conversation? They’re walking up the mountain to close the damned breach right now!

“Ah.” Dorian sounds resigned.

“I will apologize that I hurt someone you cared for, but not for doing what I had to to bring you and Adhlea back,” Elaine says quietly. “If you no longer wish to associate with me that is perfectly appropriate.”

Adhlea didn’t sign up for this! She did not! She looks over and makes eye contact with a very grim looking Solas. 

“No- I simply,” Dorian sighs. “He is not dead. That is all I can hope for.”

“I healed any physical damage after he told me what I needed to know. Frankly he might be more healthy than before I touched him,” Elaine says, grimacing. “But again, I apologize.”

“He is a criminal, the very thing we were so quick to hate in our talks,” Dorian says stiffly. “I thank you for bringing us back.”

“Do we have to do this now?” Adhlea asks weakly. “Not to rain on your very exciting emotional talks, but there  _ is _ a breach in the sky to close.”

—

Elaine lays a hand on her shoulder, golden light filling Adhlea. 

“You will not die,” Elaine says simply. 

Adhlea nods, raises her hand, feels the Mages pour mana into her. She flexes her hand, feeling the mark connect to the breach and-

_ Pain coursing through her arm numbed almost immediately, forcing the fade away from reality, forcing the veil into compliance, until- _

**_SNAP!_ **

The Breach closes, and Adhlea slumps into warm, grey robed arms. 

“You’ve done wonderfully, little dear, I’m so proud of you,” Elaine murmurs, and Adhlea breathes, happy that at least this time she’s not passed out even if she feels a little tired. 

_ A little tired.  _ Mythal have mercy, she just closed the Breach! She did it!

Happy laughter bubbles up in Adhlea’s throat. 

“I closed it!” 

She should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. 

—

“They have a dragon,” Elaine says cryptically when they’re running from the celebration to the gates. How she knows that, Adhlea has no clue. 

They meet a boy, Cole, and then they’re fighting for the trebuchets, and then Elaine is kicking through Harrit’s door, and then  _ Seggrit’s _ door, and Adhlea has to brave the flames of the burning tavern to pull Flissa to Lissette, who just almost died by templar.  _ Red Lyrium Templar.  _

“Teldryn, the woman!” Elaine shouts, and Adhlea turns to see the couple sprinting up the hill where Dorian, Adan and Solas’s cabin’s lie. On the ground, next to a bunch of alcohol near burning wood, is Minaeve and Adan. 

“This is fucked,” Varric says helpfully behind Adhlea when Elaine shield’s Adan’s body with her own, strange magic glowing around her and saving her from the blast. 

“No shit,” Iron Bull rumbles. “Boss?”

Adhlea shakes her head, she needs to focus. 

“The Chantry. We’ll help anyone else on the way too.”

Threnn is the last person they save before they’re all in the packed Chantry, full of dazed and traumatized townsfolk. 

Elaine brushes past Adhlea, hands already glowing gold for a very injured Chancellor Roderick that Cole has just set down. 

Adhlea feels. 

Terror. Numb. Anger. Lots of anger. Burning inside her, really. 

“Herald, Haven isn’t defensible,” Commander Cullen murmurs to Adhlea, wary of the scared people around them. “Right now, we’re waiting to die. But we can make them work for it. There is a final trebuchet, if we can aim it at the mountain…”

Adhlea-

Adhlea misses her babae. Her brother- fuck. She hasn’t sent him a letter since before this mess. Her twin probably thinks she’s dead. 

But. 

If this is how she dies?

She can make them work for it. 

“Wait, there is a- a path. You wouldn’t know it unless you took the summer pilgrimage,” Roderick interjects, and all heads within earshot snap over to him. 

“They would follow,” Cole says. “He is looking for you. He doesn’t care about the others.”

Adhlea feels something in her harden. 

“Fine. Then I’ll give him a real good distraction,” Adhlea says, turning for the door. 

“You cannot, it is suicide Herald!” Cassandra interjects, a hand on Adhlea’s arm. 

Adhlea looks back at Cassandra, and gives her a grin. 

“Me versus you guys getting to safety? Is it even a question, Seeker?”

“I assume you intend on starting an avalanche to cover the escape,” Elaine says, and Adhlea watches her stand calmly from a now healed Roderick. “I will walk with you. I’ve survived them before. Aventus!”

Elaine’s son comes slinking over, one of Elaine’s charges from Val Royeaux in his arms. 

“Yes, mother?” Aventus asks. 

“Heal the wounded while you walk. I know you detest ruining your roguish image, but I will be presumably preoccupied,” Elaine says, already starting for the door, her husband at her back. 

Aventus sighs, deeply. 

“ _ Fine _ . But I’m making Lucia help.”

And so Adhlea walks back out of the chantry with Elaine, Teldryn, and ever stubborn Cassandra. 

“I’m afraid I will have to pull out all stops now, dear Adhlea, you focus on handling that trebuchet,” Elaine hums as they jog to said trebuchet. 

“Pull out all stops?” Cassandra asks, incredulous. “You have not been putting in your all?”

“There wouldn’t be anything to fight if she had,” Teldryn says, chuckling darkly. 

They reach the trebuchet and Cassandra starts turning it when more red Templars appear. 

Adhlea raises her staff, but then watches wide eyed when Elaine cuts one of their heads clean off, glowing faintly like earlier with the alcohol explosion. 

In the end, Adhlea can only watch in shock while Elaine tears through the Templars like they’re butter and her faintly glowing, scary looking sword is a hot knife. 

Which it might actually be, since the Templars are bursting into flame when she stabs them. 

Something terrifying cries up above them, after Elaine and Teldryn fell a behemoth looking red templar that very much wasn’t human anymore. 

“ _ Dovah _ ,” Elaine hisses, eyes on the sky. And then, she does something that has Adhlea stumbling back. 

“ **_Joor Zah Frul_ ** !” Elaine-  _ shouts _ , up at the sky, and a brightly glowing blue piece of magic smacks into the dragon flying above them. 

Adhlea can feel the magic revertibrating from Elaine’s throat round them, and it feels- it feels  _ old. Ancient.  _

“What was that, Apostate?!” Cassandra shouts, but not like Elaine shouted. 

“ _ Thu’um _ ,” Elaine says, eyes on the now glowing, blighted looking dragon that's  _ coming straight towards the ground.  _

“ _ Fenhedis _ !” Adhlea hisses, jumping behind the trebuchet. “Take cover!”

Cassandra, though, isn’t so lucky, and gets knocked away from them, back towards Haven proper. 

A  _ very tall _ man dismounts off of the still glowing dragon. 

“You!” He cries, eyes on Elaine. 

“ _ Me _ . Oh, you are the one causing all this mischief, hm!” Elaine says darkly, and Adhlea stays crouched behind the trebuchet. She jumps when she feels Teldryn lay a hand on her shoulder, one hand up by his helmet in a universal ‘ _ Shh _ ’ motion. 

“Where is the pretender?! I can sense her near!” The man says, turning to look around, and before Adhlea is pulled more hidden by Teldryn she can see red lyrium grotesquely jutting out of his face. 

“You are referring to the Herald, yes?” Elaine asks. “I’m afraid you should be more concerned about me. That orb is what created that mark, yes?”

“The  _ anchor.  _ You are useless to me, girl! Tell me where your precious Herald is so you may have died assisting in my greatness,” The man says. 

Elaine chuckles. It isn’t a kind chuckle. 

“First tell me your name, great one, so I may chant it in death.”

“ _ Corypheus _ . I walked to the golden city for great Tevinter and found it’s throne  _ empty _ .”

Adhlea catches sight of red flares going up. 

“Ah, that should clear some things up. Teldryn, now.”

Suddenly Teldryn is up on the Trebuchet, and suddenly the rock loaded on it is flying up at the mountain. 

“ **_No_ ** !” Corypheus shouts, and when Adhlea looks over, she sees him quickly climb onto his blighted dragon and take off. 

Teldryn picks up Adhlea like he would one of his children. 

“Where to, my love?” He asks Elaine. 

“There’s a mine opening down here, I  _ told _ the Commander it was a health hazard,” Elaine hisses, kicking out the planks covering said mine enough so they can fit. “You first, husband.”

“Gladly, wife.” And suddenly, they’re plummeting down a hole with Elaine quickly following. 

—

“My helm is broken.”

“Honestly,  _ now _ ? This is the worst time-  _ ugh. _ ”

Adhlea blinks, going from not awake to awake in seconds, groaning. 

“Shit- Little dear, can you count how many fingers I have up?” Elaine murmurs, and suddenly there are fingers in front of Adhlea’s face. 

“Four?” Adhlea asks, looking around. 

“No concussion. Probably. Here, dear let me heal you up,” Elaine murmurs, and suddenly that comforting gold is running through Adhlea, making her sigh with relief. 

“Where- Are we still in the mine?” Adhlea asks, before realizing she’s on top of Teldryn. 

“Oh crap- sorry!” She rolls over, and gets a face full of snow for her trouble. 

Teldryn snorts. “Is now really the time for me to be making my dramatic face reveal, or do you have more helms somewhere?” Teldryn asks. 

Elaine rolls her eyes. “Of course I do, you know I carry everything with me- Ugh. I built that cabin for no reason. That is  _ upsetting, _ ” Elaine grumbles, rummaging through her robes before pulling out an  _ exact replica of Teldryn’s helmet _ ??

“How? Where?” Adhlea asks weakly. She doesn’t know why she’s surprised anymore. 

“Magic,” Teldryn says, pulling off his helmet and-

“You didn’t lie!” Adhlea cries, eyes wide. “Grey skin and red eyes!”

Teldryn Marquardt has grey skin darker than Bull’s, red eyes, black sclera, and a very handsome face. She’s more stuck on the eyes than anything. 

He does, however, have elf ears, so Adhlea has to assume he really is an elf? A very oddly colored elf??

“Isn’t he so pretty?” Elaine says with a loving look- what? This is not the time. 

“This is not the time, Hahren- I need- oh this is  _ terrible _ ,” Adhlea whines, feeling tears spring up around her eyes. “Haven is  _ buried _ , I don’t know if Cassandra is okay, big scary Tevinter man wants me, and Teldryn has red eyes! I owe Iron Bull a sovereign!”

Adhlea is having a terrible day. Today is  _ terrible _ . 

What if Cassandra didn’t get out? She should’ve made her stay in the Chantry, Teldryn and Elaine were enough-

“Oh love, listen, it’s okay, you’ve done your best,” Elaine says kindly, reaching over and pulling Adhlea into a warm hug. “You’re okay. We’re going to be okay.”

“B-but  _ Cassandra _ ,” Adhlea whimpers.

“She made her way back to the Chantry, she’s fine, kid, let’s get back to them, alright?” Teldryn says, reaching over and ruffling her hair. 

They start walking through the old mineshaft, Teldryn with his helmet on now, and Elaine keeping up some easy going chatter. 

“-and this is likely the best opportunity to teach you the warming spell I know. There’s a blizzard outside and you won’t be losing toes and fingers on my watch,” Elaine hums, before a bow appears in her hand and she’s shooting arrows. 

Adhlea blinks, turning in front of them and seeing a demon get smacked in the head with a spectral looking purple arrow and turn to demon gook. 

“How do you  _ do _ that?” Adhlea asks, awed. “You just. Spotted them immediately and started shooting.”

“Years of experience. Once you’re almost fifty you’ll be this fast as well,” Elaine says simply, dropping the bow and it dissipates when she lets go of it.

Adhlea looks dubiously down at her mark. When she closed the breach she felt something…  _ crack _ in it. It feels hungrier, somehow. 

Elaine follows her gaze, frowning. 

“Yes. That. I can heal any damage done to your arm by it, but I predict the magic will only get more hungry as time goes on unless it is stabilized,” Elaine says, gold eyes molten and burning. “You will live to fifty, Adhlea, if I must perform necromancy to see it so.”

Teldryn makes a noise. “Not that spell, love, you know what it did to Stenvar.”

“He was perfectly fine after a week! He is lucky his corpse was so fresh, or it would have been messier,” Elaine states, glaring at her husband, and then they’re walking again. 

Adhlea doesn’t want to know. She’s very certain at this point that she isn’t paid enough. 

—

“ **_Lok Vah Koor_ ** !” Elaine  _ Shouts _ . And Adhlea is certain it’s a different sort of shout now, words filled with power that rings in Adhlea’s chest and feels older than dust. 

The blizzard clears. 

“What kind of magic is that? Besides Thu’um?” Adhlea asks, looking wide eyed at the now clear snow drift before them. 

“It’s words of power, Dovahzuul, the language of the dragons,” Elaine explains, quiet voice quieter in the dark night. 

Adhlea shivers. “So the stuff about Dovahkiin? Dragon something?”

“She has a dragon soul,” Teldryn explains simply, like that’s a thing someone can  _ have.  _

“Oh,” Adhlea says dumbly. 

“Let’s move, my dears, we have places to be,” Elaine says, a glowing spell in one hand that shows an odd pale trail before them. 

“What’s that?” Adhlea asks. 

“Clairvoyance, it shows the path to our goal,” Elaine says, already walking. 

Adhlea gapes, catching up quickly. “And you didn’t use it when I had to find all that stuff in the Hinterlands?!”

“Of course I did, I just let you find it on your own and nudged you in the right direction,” Elaine says cheerfully. 

—

“The Herald has returned!” Cullen shouts at the sight of them. 

“And her plucky friends,” Teldryn says dryly. 

“Apostate!” Cassandra says, right at Cullen’s heels and checking Elaine over for injury. 

“Oh, you do care Seeker! Don’t worry, I love you too,” Elaine says, sounding delighted. “I’m happy you made it back safely, Adhlea was very worried that you were still out there when the mountain came down.”

Cullen is prodding at Adhlea, very uncharacteristically like a mother hen. 

“Commander I’m  _ well _ , where’s Sera?” Adhlea grumbles, batting away the man’s hands. 

Cullen blinks. “Right. I apologize, Herald, ah, most of your Inner Circle is around the same fire at camp. Come.”

Inner Circle, huh? That fits, though it makes it seem like there is much less bickering. 

They all walk up towards the camp, Cullen filling them all in on the current situation. 

Thanks to Elaine’s kids, who were apparently secret mages, no one had been lost to injury or frostbite during the trek to safety. Right now they’re just trying to figure out where to go from here, honestly.

Lydia is sitting with Heris and Senna on her, at the fire with the rest of the Inner Circle, and when she spots Elaine she makes a very very scary face. 

“Who is sworn to protect you, my Thane?” Lydia asks, dangerously. “Twenty-four years and you are  _ still _ scaring the shit out of me.”

Elaine faux gasps. “In front of the  _ children _ , Lydia?”

“Sleeping peacefully, no thanks to you,” Lydia says with a sniff. “I’m a glorified babysitter.”

“No, you’re an  _ Aunt _ . You get to eat food from our pantry,” Teldryn snarks. 

Suddenly, someone smacks into Adhlea. 

“ _ Agh _ !” Adhlea cries. 

“You ever go and fight big blighted dragons without me again and you’re getting arrows!” Oh, it’s just Sera. 

“I’m sorry!” Adhlea says weakly, ribs being squeezed. 

“Mother, Father, I see I am not twice orphaned today.”

Someone snorts. 

“Aw, was my baby Aventus worried!” Elaine says. Adhlea looks over and sees she’s hugging her taller son. 

Adhlea pats Sera’s back, unsure of when she’s going to be let go of. 

“ _ Arms aching, the blood still wet, turning with tired eyes. Finally! An assassin. Finally _ ,” Someone murmurs. 

Adhlea looks over and sees the boy, Cole, from before the battle. 

“Now where did you hear that?” Aventus asks, dark eyes glinting like sharp obsidian when he turns to the boy. 

“The hurt is scarred over, gnarled. You worried she wasn’t as invincible as she seemed then,” Cole murmurs. “She won’t leave you if she has to tear the world apart, don’t worry.”

“I see,” Aventus says, voice deceptively at ease. 

Great. Another clanmate for them all to argue with.  _ Ugh.  _

Adhlea is glad she’s back. 

—

The Shems start  _ singing  _ at her. And  _ kneeling _ . 

Adhlea runs off gladly when Solas says he needs a word.  _ Fuck _ hanging around that, it might be contagious. 

“Thank you,” Adhlea says weakly once she and Solas are away from the camp and Adhlea can run a shaking hand down her face. “They’re  _ worshiping _ me. Why?”

She sounds terrified even to her own ears. Her pointed ears. When was the last time a human kneeled to an elf? Let alone more than one!

Nervous laughter bubbles up in Adhlea’s throat at the thought. 

“They see you as the woman who seemingly died and came back, more than once. All to help them,” Solas explains quietly. “Why would they not?”

Adhlea feels goosebumps raise all over her skin. 

“I’m a Dalish elf from the Marches,” Adhlea says. “They’re all mad.”

Solas chuckles, and it sounds almost…  _ bitter _ . 

“Yes, it would seem so. But that is not why I asked you to come away,” Solas says, looking at her carefully with those grey grey eyes. “Corypheus. He had an orb with him, did he not?”

Adhlea nods. “He was holding it threateningly at Elaine. He- he was looking for me, but Elaine distracted him long enough to send the avalanche down,” Adhlea pauses. “It’s what caused the mark, is it not? He called it an anchor.”

Solas nods. “It is, Da’len. If it’s what I think it is, it is an artifact of our people. As old as Arlathan.”

Adhlea’s eyes widen. 

“Oh. We can’t let the Shems know,” Adhlea says. “They’ll try and start another Exalted March.”

Solas nods, expression grim. 

“And there is another thing. The Inquisition will need another home.”

—

“A castle!” Elaine is giddy, stepping through the broken courtyard. “Oh I can put a real healing ward in it. No more working in tents!” 

Adhlea watches, wide eyed. 

“Lady Marquardt,” Cullen starts. 

“Oh hush young man. Speaking of, we are going to have a talk about your health very very soon. Don’t think I can’t recognize certain symptoms after this long,” Elaine says, walking over and grabbing the man by his ear. 

“ _ What- _ My lady!” Cullen says, face bright red as Elaine starts dragging him away. 

Well. Everything seems to be going normal then, even if they have a freaking  _ castle _ now. 

“You alright, kid?”

Adhlea turns to Teldryn, standing beside her instead of following his wife. He has red eyes, under that helmet. Huh. 

“Well, I didn’t end up having to martyr myself?” Adhlea says. “And no one died on our way here. So. Pretty good? Probably?”

Teldryn ruffles her hair. 

“Yeah. Oh, and I think those advisors of yours are about to make you Inquisitor.”

“ **_What._ ** ”

Teldryn laughs. Adhlea hopes he’s joking. 

—

He wasn’t joking. 

Adhlea raises the ceremonial sword above her head, happy that she took those sword lessons with Teldryn or she probably wouldn’t have been able to raise it. 

They’re cheering around her, and Adhlea is terrified. 

When she hands the sword back over to Cassandra she hurries back into the great hall, going into a corner and sitting with her legs up at her chest, hands over her mouth. 

“Little dear?”

Adhlea looks over and sees Elaine coming this way, crouching in front of her with such a look of  _ knowing.  _

“Is- is Dovahkiin as serious as this?” Adhlea asks, voice shaking. 

Elaine looks so  _ sad _ . 

“Two sides of the same coin,” Elaine says quietly, reaching over and cupping Adhlea’s cheek. “You will endure. You will come through this forged in dragon fire, my love, and I will be right beside you.”

Adhlea lets out a shuddering breath. 

“I want to be  _ normal _ ,” Adhlea says.

“But you can't be, love, not anymore,” Elaine murmurs, her other hand coming onto her other cheek gently. “It’s terrifying, and you want to run, and it is terribly unfair, but this is who you are now. And you must wear it like armor.”

Adhlea’s face crumples. 

“Why does it have to be  _ me _ ?” Adhlea asks, desperation in her voice. 

“Because it simply is.”

“What if I become evil and bad and- and,” Adhlea says frantically. 

“ _ Adhlea _ .”

Adhlea shrugs her mouth with an audible clack. 

“You decide where the line is that you will never cross,” Elaine says quietly, gold eyes practically glowing. “And you never cross it. Whisper it to yourself every night before you sleep, if you must. And you will never falter.”

Adhlea nods.

Elaine presses a soft kiss to Adhlea’s dark bang covered forehead, on top of her Mythal vallaslin. 

“I’m right here. You are not alone, you will not shoulder this alone,” Elaine murmurs. “That’s why you build your followers around you. To ground you.”

Adhlea thinks of her clan she’s building around her, and shuts her bluebell eyes tight. 

“Okay,” She whispers. Okay. 

—

Elaine is very adamant she gets her healing ward, and Adhlea, who now is technically the leader, is very quick to give it to her. 

“I’ll simply refurbish the jail,” Elaine says with a wave of her hand. “Jails never do anything productive anyways. Prisoners can be held in a wing of rooms anyways.”

Adhlea shrugs, because she’s fairly certain she still isn’t paid enough to question her Hahren. 

Then Cullen comes through Adhlea’s room looking very upset. 

“Inquisitor, I need those cells,” He declares, clearly very upset. 

“Elaine says the open air is good for patients?” Adhlea says, looking up from where she’s been writing a letter to her Babae and her brother Lahlas with a grimace. 

“And what of the prisoners we must keep? We are still in possession of Magister Alexius, Inquisitor,” Cullen presses, scowling. 

“Isn’t there a wing of rooms without windows we can put them in? Wait, Lady Josephine show’d me a map she had made of what they’ve found so far, uhhh,” Adhlea opens a drawer in her desk and pulls out said map, opening it up and looking over what bits they’ve uncovered so far. 

“Okay, right here. It seems to be where they kept the servants before, but it looks like it could work. It’s not like we’re going to be arresting many people,” Adhlea says, standing from her chair and already waving for Cullen to follow her. “We’ll look it over right now if you’d like.”

Cullen sighs. 

“Yes, fine, Inquisitor. I am simply concerned with how little Lady Marquardt cares for such an essential part of running a castle,” Cullen says. 

“She told you to call her Elaine, didn’t she?” Adhlea hums. “And I’ve learned that none of us get paid enough to question her weirdness, Keepers are always weird.”

“Keeper?” Cullen asks. 

“Oh, it’s like the person that leads the clan for the Dalish. She acts like a keeper that builds her clan wherever she walks- agh, Nevermind,” Adhlea rambles before shaking her head. “She’s weird, but she’s way more competent than three fourths of the castle, so I don’t bother questioning it.”

“Is that wise, Inquisitor?” Cullen asks. “She is a strange wilds witch.”

Adhlea turns and gives him a weirded out look. “Commander, she adopts people for fun. She twists magic like it’s nothing and has healed probably the whole Inner Circle at this point. If she was going to do something, she’d have done it.”

Ex-templars. Weirdos. 

—

Adhlea blinks, looking at the prison turned healing ward. 

“No, dear,  _ tell  _ the wound to close. It’s not going to bite you.”

Adhlea sees Elaine instructing several of the mages from Fiona’s group in healing magic. 

“I see you’re doing well?” Adhlea says. 

Elaine looks up, face brightening at the sight of Adhlea. 

“Of course. I missed teaching, and I do love healing. Watch your magicka flow, my dear, you don’t want to overload your patient,” Elaine says, tapping the man who was apparently doing the spell wrong. 

“Does, erm, does this mean you won’t be traveling with me anymore?” Adhlea asks quietly. 

Elaine’s eyes widen. 

“Oh, of course not little dear. Part of this is making sure the healing can happen while I’m gone,” Elaine reassures, reaching over to tap one of the women she’s training’s arms back into position. 

Adhlea lets out a relieved breath. 

“Okay. Not that I doubted you!” Adhlea says quickly. 

Elaine laughs. “Of course not. Oh, also, Blackwall is trying to sleep in a  _ hayloft.  _ You will make him sleep in a bed and stop looking for pain.”

Adhlea makes a face. “Can I make him? It sounds bad, but.”

Elaine looks very grave. 

“Hay  _ itches _ . Save that man from himself.”

“Right. I’ll go do that right now,” Adhlea says, turning on her heel and heading out. 

“Tell him I said hello, darling! Oh, Janette, I don’t think I’ve seen someone make something explode with this spell before. Fascinating!”

—

Blackwall is not allowed to sleep on hay. He is very long suffering acting about this. 

—

Someone takes their scouts in the Fallow Mire, and so Adhlea and her ever growing Inner Circle head out again. 

Blackwall, Elaine, Teldryn, Cassandra, Cole, Solas, Varric, Aventus, Lucia, Vivienne, Dorian, Iron Bull, Sera. 

Fourteen people. Plus her. 

“I dare say there might be too many of us, these days,” Vivienne says dryly as they all get on their horses. 

“All the more fun, Lady Vivienne,” Elaine says, entirely too cheerful this early in the morning. 

“ _ Too loud, _ ” Sera grumbles. 

“Anklebiters, you didn’t forget your rations and potions, did you?” Teldryn asks. 

“We’re  _ adults _ , dearest father, of course we didn’t forget them,” Aventus says in a tone Adhlea has heard come out of Teldryn’s mouth hundreds of times. 

“Er. One moment,” Lucia says, reaching into her brother’s pack and pulling out a few potions. “There. Haven’t forgotten a thing.”

“That’s cheating, Lucy. I’m so proud of you,” Aventus says. 

“Is everyone ready?” Adhlea calls out, before blinking. “Where’s Solas?”

Solas comes walking towards them all with a look at Sera that implies pranking went on and is the reason why he’s late. 

“Apologies, Inquisitor, I was a bit preoccupied,” Solas says blandly, pulling his already saddled Hart out of her stall and getting on her. 

“It’s fine!” Adhlea says, looking around and making sure everyone is situated. “Anyone have any last minute things they need to grab? Cause if you don’t got it we’re leaving it.”

“Let’s  _ go _ , Boss,” Iron Bull says with a sigh. 

Adhlea rolls her eyes. 

“ _ Fine.  _ Move out!”

—

When they settle for camp that night, Adhlea peers at Teldryn with narrowed eyes. 

“When are you gonna show them?” She asks. 

“Oh, have you seen Scarves’ face, Bluebell?” Varric asks from where he’s dealing in tonight’s game of Wicked Grace. 

“Kid, one of them will try to stab me. I don’t have the energy for being stabbed tonight,” Teldryn says dryly. 

“Psh, you can’t be that ugly,” Sera says. 

“But. I want to see their reactions,” Adhlea says, unabashedly wanting everyone else to feel as shocked as her. 

“Love?” Teldryn says, looking over at his wife who’s exchanging theories with Solas, Dorian and Vivienne. 

“Hm? Oh, it’s all up to you  _ Dii Sil _ . We’ll have to explain more of our mysterious past, though,” Elaine says, looking up and over at her husband with a smile. 

“See? I wanna see their faces!” Adhlea says. 

“It cannot possibly be that odd, darling, you’re exaggerating,” Vivienne says with a roll of her eyes. 

“Don’t worry, Pa, I’ll stab anyone who tries to stab you,” Aventus says. 

Teldryn sighs,  _ and then lifts his hands to his helmet.  _

He pulls it off. 

“ _ Holy shit _ ,” Varric says. 

Bull says some sort of Qunlat curse. 

“What happened to your eyes!” Sera says. “All black where they should be white.”

“What is happening,” Cassandra comes out of her tent only to pat where her sword usually is. “ _ Demon?? _ ”

Elaine is laughing, Teldryn look’s back at his wife and Adhlea can  _ see _ he looks unimpressed. Oh. Aventus makes that face. 

“I’m a dunmer. We look like this,” Teldryn says dryly. “This is worse than Windhelm in the winter.”

“So. No weird fade shit did it?” Sera asks suspiciously. 

“No. My mother did it,” Teldryn is very expressive, Adhlea is happy to see it. 

Elaine’s laughter finally calms down. 

“Imagine their reaction to an  _ argonian _ ,” Elaine says, chuckling. “Akatosh have mercy.”

“No one is going to believe this book,” Varric says faintly, looking over Teldryn then at the sky. 

“I need a drink,” Blackwall says gruffly.

“I’m- Where you are from- How do I phrase this without being offensive?” Dorian asks, peering over at Teldryn and twirling his mustache. “Are the red eyes a dominant inheritance? Do the black sclera affect your sight?”

Teldryn sighs. 

“Love, you can field questions. I’m going to go hide in our tent.”

“Of course my love. At least you weren’t attacked!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *does a funky little dance* please give me seratonine.


	8. “I used to be an adventurer like you, and then I got an arrow to the knee.”

“So. I know what you meant by having a type now,” Bull says. 

Adhlea doesn’t want to listen to _this._

“You _are_ very pretty,” Elaine hums. “Is that horn balm working like I thought it would? Your horns look less dry.”

Bull chuckles. “Yeah, thanks for that.”

“It’s absolutely no problem, I cannot believe your superiors didn’t give you a supply when they sent you this far south,” Elaine says with a huff. “I cannot imagine.”

“That’s because you care for your agents,” Aventus pipes up cheerfully from where’d been chatting with Lucia. 

Agents? Is Adhlea even surprised at this point?

“Of course. If I’m paying them I’ll make certain they are able to preform their jobs to their best ability,” Elaine says with a wave of her hand. 

“Wait, you have spies Mama Bear?” Varric asks. 

“And thieves. And assassins. And a battalion-”

“ **_Dii Sil._ **”

Adhlea isn’t _paid enough._

“You employ _assassins_?” Cassandra asks towards the rear, very judgemental sounding. 

“Oh no, dear mother is the Listener of a guild of them. She’s the _head_ assassin,” Aventus says cheerfully, before getting whacked upside the head by his sister. 

Varric is grumbling about his book again, Adhlea doesn’t have to look over to see he’s crossing out and rewriting notes. 

Adhlea spots Sera riding back from where she’s been scouting. 

“Ambush down there, looks like the Red Templars,” Sera says once she rides up beside Adhlea. 

Adhlea grimaces. 

“How many?”

Sera makes a so so gesture with her hand. “Ten? Twenty? Enough for us to stick arrows in.”

“Frontliners take head!” Adhlea calls. “Rogues dismount and sneak up behind them, Sera lead. Mages cover the frontliners with barriers.”

There’s a few calls of affirmative, everyone moving to follow her directives. 

They pull to a stop, Varric, Aventus, Sera and Cole dismounting and pulling their horses out of view of the road. 

“Wait, actually, everyone dismount, let’s not risk the horses,” Adhlea says hopping off of her Hart, Vhenan, _yes she knows what it means Solas_ , and pulling her off to the side. 

Iron Bull takes the lead, being the biggest target. Teldryn and Lucia beside him, following with Cassandra and Blackwall. 

“You’re small for a frontliner,” Iron Bull observes, looking down at Lucia. 

Lucia grins, brightly. 

“That’s what they all say, before they get ebony to the liver,” She says, words contrasting with her tone, dragonbone shield and wicked looking sword glowing faintly. 

Iron Bull lets out a surprised chuckle, and Adhlea is trying to figure out where she should be putting Elaine. 

“Er, you go right behind Cassandra and Blackwall?” Adhlea instructs, and Elaine does so without complaint, reaching over and patting Blackwall’s armored shoulder. 

“You have tension in your neck and shoulder,” Elaine clucks, already Hahren-ing. 

“Try not to die, Solas, I do think we will all suffer with only one Apostate to tease,” Vivienne says sweetly. 

“And you as well, Lady Vivienne. Who else will argue for mages in cages?” Solas says just as pleasantly. 

“You are all so terribly grim. I thought I was the necromancer,” Dorian huffs. 

And with that they’re moving out, a suitable distraction for the rogues. 

Once they clash with the Red Templars, they’re all moving like a sort of well oiled wheel. They’re all mostly familiar enough with each other’s fighting. Really, the Templars stood no chance. 

What catches Adhlea’s eyes, though, is Lucia and Aventus. 

She hasn’t seen the siblings fight before, not much opportunity. 

Lucia and Aventus move like fighting is a dance. Aventus light footed and slashing arteries with a wicked looking grin, Lucia blocking any who come at her brother’s rear with simple bats of her shield, sword jutting out to cut off heads and arms with concerning ease. 

So. The overpowered-ness runs in the family? Good to know??

Adhlea slashes a Templar’s neck with the back end of her stave knife, before twirling it and sending an incinerating ball of electricity at a templar who’d been trying to get into Varric’s rear. 

“Hail Sithis!” Aventus cries after felling a particularly big Templar. 

“Shut it with your weird death god, Aven, watch my left!” Lucia bites out, bashing another Templar in the face three times, quickly, and moving before he even drops. 

_Scary_. 

They finish up, everyone looking warily at the red crystals jutting out of a few of the Templars. 

“Oh! It’s sick lyrium, how quaint,” Elaine exclaims, poking one of the lyrium shards with a stick. 

“Mama Bear, do _not_ mess with that stuff,” Varric says, voice serious enough that Adhlea jumps. 

“Yes, yes. Mind altering madness, growing under the skin, softly sweet singing, I’m aware,” Elaine says, glancing over at him. “I assure you, it is no worse than the call of blood to a werewolf. I’m not going to be touching it with anything but a stick.”

“How do you know the call of blood to werewolves?” Solas asks. 

“We all do strange things in our twenties,” Elaine hums, hands glowing as she presumably runs diagnostic spells over the lyrium. “Ah. I assumed as much. This would need a hardy cleansing spell to return to normalcy. To cure a person I’d likely need candles, and a ritual, praying to Kyne…” 

With a shift of her stance, she sends a bright white light at the shard and-

“Holy _shit_ ,” Varric hisses, hurrying over to look at the now seemingly normal raw lyrium. 

Elaine hums, frowning. 

“That is not something a normal mage can attempt,” She states, frankly. “I may need to take samples, but I refuse to carry such a diseased substance near you all.”

“Where were you ten years ago, Mama Bear,” Varric whispers, eyes wide on the Lyrium. 

“Fighting a war,” Elaine says blandly. “You would not have liked me as much then.”

“I will dispose of this lyrium, prevent it from corrupting this area. Return to the horses and do not come near until I come back,” Elaine says. 

“I admit I am curious to watch how you will accomplish such a thing,” Solas interjects. 

Elaine looks over at him, face serious for once. 

“Fine. But only you. You have the self control required to not try and eat it,” Elaine says, looking now at Adhlea. “We will be back soon, little dear, I would suggest leaving now.”

Adhlea opens her mouth to object, but suddenly becomes all too aware of the faint sickly sweet humming of the Lyrium, making her skin itch. 

Nope. Nevermind. She’s leaving this to her. 

“Right, uh, let’s move out!” Adhlea calls, starting off back towards the horses. 

Sera sidles up next to Adhlea, grimacing her ‘ _weird fucking magic_ ’ grimace. 

“I say we stick arrows in it and keep those two away from it,” Sera grumbles. 

Adhlea agrees, but if Elaine can purify the stuff, she isn’t stopping her. 

“I trust Elaine to stop Solas if he tries eating it,” Adhlea says grimly. 

Sera snorts, but looks visibly unnerved. 

“That ain’t right. Not that red lyrium shite and not what it did to those Templars,” Sera hisses. 

Adhlea loops an arm around Sera’s shoulders, giving her what she hopes is a reassuring squeeze. 

“Agreed.”

“She just. Cured Red Lyrium. I need a fucking drink,” Varric is muttering to himself, running a hand down his face.

Adhlea watches Teldryn pull out a flask and hold it out to Varric, who takes it gladly, downs some, and then has it snatched away by Cassandra who downs _much more_. 

“ _Apostates_. Maker have mercy,” Cassandra says. 

—

Solas watches the woman before him pull candles out of her robes, white ones, and set them around the carnage they created. 

“What are you doing?” Solas asks. 

“Setting up a purification circle. It’s usually only used for plague victims, but,” Elaine explains, setting down the last candle. “It will work here too, most likely.”

“And you have dealt with plagues before?” Solas asks. 

Elaine snorts, looking over at him with a crooked grin very much like her son’s. 

“More than I’d like. War breeds sickness,” Elaine says wryly. “It’s for the dead. The circle often sends living patients into shock.”

Solas nods, watching Elaine pull out a knife. 

“Blood magic?” He asks, quiet. 

“Just magic, Kyne asks for sacrifice in these cases and I don’t exactly have any dead doves,” Elaine says. 

“You are praying to a… _god_ , for this?” Solas asks, feeling annoyance build in the back of his mind. Even one as learned as she is so easily swayed by such things?

“Of course,” Elaine says, blinking, confused. “A real one, not just whatever these Andrastians pray to. You know when you’re praying to a real one, the altars… well. You _know_.”

She slices her hand, and with a snap, the candles all set aflame. 

“Kyne bless these sickened, for we were not able to heal them before, and wish to save the living from their suffering,” Elaine says, blood falling onto the grass inside the circle. She has one of her many enchanted necklaces in hand, this one shaped like a violet owl. 

Suddenly, bright golden light swirls around the circle, and Solas finds himself taking a wide eyed step back. 

The whispers of **_power-_ **

That is not Elaine. And that is **_not_ ** a spirit. 

Elaine stares on like she’s done this a thousand times, and when Solas peers at her aura he sees barely a _dent_ in her mana. 

_By the void_ . _What is this woman_?

The light dies away, twirling up into the darkening sky and around Elaine with almost a _fondness._

The magic falls away, leaving only raw lyrium. 

Elaine waves a hand, the blown out candles flying into her hands and being shoved back into her robes, _somewhere._

Solas is still gaping. 

Elaine looks over, eyebrow raised. 

“Has your curiosity been sated?” Elaine asks. 

Solas shuts his mouth with a click, mind spinning. 

Solas is called pride, but even he knows there is sometimes things that will surprise him, and there is always things to learn. 

“ _How_ ?” Solas asks, and if he saw himself he would see his eyes alight with curious _hunger._

Elaine smiles with black and gold painted lips, and Solas wishes to know where this half elf woman got power to rival the Evenuris at such a young age. 

“Practice. And a bit of a cheating soul. Are you ready to leave? I’ll be burning these bodies after I check them for valuables.”

Solas feels, for once in a very long time, _stupid._ He finds it both startling and refreshing. 

He _will_ find this woman’s secrets. He cannot avoid it now. 

—

“Black March,” Elaine says grimly. 

They’re in the Fallow Mire. It’s not fun. Not fun at all. 

“This isn’t as bad as Black March, love, the argonians reverse invaded Oblivion,” Teldryn says in a similar tone, stomping the head of a corpse he just felled. 

“It’s much more like Morthal,” Lucia says, slinging corpse blood off of her sword. “They’re more squishy here, though.”

“There’s more rain here,” Aventus says from where he’s picking through another corpse’s pockets. 

“I’ll never understand you all, and I’m okay with that,” Blackwall says by Adhlea’s side. 

“What, afraid it’s contagious?” Dorian says with a grin. “Tell me, Teldryn, how does all the water make a dunmer feel?”

“ _Wet,_ ” Teldryn says, voice drier than the Western Approach. “And not in the fun way.”

Iron Bull laughs at that, because of course he does. 

“Apostate, I am aware you are skilled, but stop running through enemies in front of me,” Cassandra gripes at Elaine.

“It is not my fault I so happen to spot open backs that so happen to be facing you, dear Seeker,” Elaine says innocently. “Really, I would never steal kills. What an accusation.”

“I’m being dragged through a bog by apostates, seekers, and other rabble,” Vivienne states, flicking mud off of her heeled boot. 

“Ah, yes, it is lucky you are among your fellows, as you too are an apostate, Madame,” Solas says back. 

“Can we get moving, all these bodies are making Bianca twitchy,” Varric calls, waving for all the much taller people around him to get moving. 

“Agreed, the water just _moved_ ,” Lucia says, and then they’re all walking again. 

“Is it truly necessary to bring all of us everywhere, Inquisitor?” Vivienne asks Adhlea. 

Adhlea makes a face. 

“We kill things faster all together?” Adhlea more asks than says. “If you want to stay at camp that’s perfectly fine! My keeper used to tell me everyone has their place in the clan, even if it’s different than what they first wanted.”

“ _You know what it means if there’s another mage, Ada. Puffing breaths, a stone thrown across a pond. Then I’ll leave, I’m not making some kid wander off alone,_ ” Cole murmurs, and Adhlea winces. 

“And my point still stands,” Adhlea says firmly. “I thought you couldn’t hear my hurts well?”

Cole hums. “Yours are tied to his. He’s worried, but believes in you.”

Adhlea bites her lip. “He’s safe then? Lahlas?” 

Cole nods. Adhlea lets out a relived breath. 

“I wouldn’t be so calm if it were reading my head like that, Boss,” Bull grunts. 

Adhlea shrugs. “It’s not more intrusive than Elaine shoving magic into you to sew you back together. She’s probably got your organs memorized now.”

Bull makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Feels way nicer than a _shove_ , boss.”

Adhlea makes a grossed out face. 

“ _Ew. Ew_ , Bull,” Adhlea says, covering her ears. 

Elaine is cackling, though. 

“Should I be more _gentle_ , Iron Bull?” Elaine teases, and Adhlea makes a strangled noise in her throat. 

“Oh I could go for rougher if you ask nicely.”

Teldryn snorts. 

“You’ve never had her cast fast healing on you,” Teldryn says, very unbothered with all the gross adult _flirting_ going on. 

Adhlea quickly lights one of those beacons when they walk up to it, preferring demons and the dead to listening anymore. 

—

“And you are unbothered?” Vivienne asks. 

“Madame, I’m going to live at _least_ a couple hundred more years, and so is my wife. Why in oblivion would I give a shit?” Teldryn asks, tone bland. “You people live in blinks in comparison, I get her forever if she’ll have me.”

Vivienne sniffs. 

“I am simply concerned for you.”

“No, you’re trying to start shit,” Teldryn says with a snort. “You nobles always don’t get a fucking thing. Poking and prodding until you find a weakness doesn’t work on three hundred year old mercenaries.”

Adhlea blinks sleepily from where she’s crawled out of her and Sera’s tent, looking at Teldryn and Vivienne. 

“If you two are gonna fight,” Vivienne jumps. “You should probably do it away from the camp of people with elf ears,” Adhlea finishes quietly, voice croaking with sleep. 

Adhlea hears Sera groan behind her. 

“I’ll take watch, Madame, go to sleep and don’t bother me with shit like that again,” Teldryn says, sounding completely done. The tired kind of done. 

Madame retreats to her tent with Cassandra with her head held high, walking with all the grace of a woman who’s mastered the game. 

A miscalculation, probably. 

“You can go back to bed, kid,” Teldryn says, turning his helmet to her. 

Adhlea shakes her head, crawling out of her tent all the way and plopping down on a log beside Teldryn. 

Teldryn, surprisingly, takes his helmet off and sets it down beside him. 

“You need me to talk to her?” Adhlea asks, quietly. 

Teldryn snorts, face twisting in amusement. “Nah, she’s just looking for blackmail. Harmless, wasn’t expecting that I had a spine even if I let my wife do all the talking most of the time.”

Right. So definitely a miscalculation. 

Adhlea shifts and lays her head down on Teldryn’s thigh, looking up at the stars. Teldryn just looks down at her with a roll of his eyes, and starts braiding her short hair. 

“What’s being married like?” Adhlea asks. 

“Tiresome,” Teldryn says, face looking appropriately deadpan, before he grins. “And great. Just gotta pick a person you’re okay with growing with.”

Adhlea frowns. 

“What if you don’t, like, love each other? Later on? I heard most shems don’t like their spouses doing… _stuff_ with other people. That’s what you and Vivienne were talking about, right?”

Adhlea wouldn’t know any of this stuff. Her mom died when she was younger, and Babae was content with just her and Lahlas. Said he had his hands full with just them. 

Teldryn makes a face, and Adhlea is again reminded of how _expressive_ he is. You can’t tell with the helmet on. 

“You’re going to fall out of love,” Teldryn says frankly. “You just have to decide if you’re alright with sticking around anyways. And sex doesn’t matter. Marriage is for all the legal shit you have to sort out.”

Adhlea frowns. “But, I thought people get jealous?”

“Some people do, but I don’t own my wife and she doesn’t own me,” Teldryn explains simply, like he’s talking to one of his kids. “You have to talk to each other, discuss what you’re comfortable with. Damn. This reminds me of when I gave my other kids the talk.”

Adhlea makes a face. “Do _not_ give me the talk.”

“Yeah, that’s Elaine’s area. She’s the healer,” Teldryn says with a snort. 

Adhlea doesn’t want the talk from her either. She already knows what sex is, her twin is a notorious flirt. 

Adhlea shuts her eyes, feeling Teldryn quietly fiddle with her hair with the air of someone who’s done this a thousand times, and breathes. 

—

It’s wet and gross and Adhlea shoves her stave knife through the big bad Avvar guy’s throat. 

She pulls it back with a wet squelch, and grimaces. 

“Squishy,” Sera says with disgust. 

Adhlea looks over to see Elaine has picked the lock holding her scouts already, and turns to start searching the big bad Avvar. 

“Bull, there’s a maul you can use!” Adhlea calls out, and said man walks over and picks up the maul, testing its weight in his hands. 

“ _That_ was anticlimactic,” Aventus snarks, behind her. 

“I was more concerned with keeping the scouts safe than having an epic battle,” Adhlea grumbles, looking back at the tall man. 

He’s smirking down at her, holding out a gloved hand. 

Adhlea takes it, standing from her crouch.

“Not all battle is about making people bleed everywhere, Aven,” Lucia says, coming up beside him and almost as tall. 

“But that’s half the fun, dear sister! You have no room to talk,” Aventus says, teasing. “Is that _hair_ growing in your ears-“

Lucia’s pretty doe eyes flash, and Aventus is flexing his very punched, already bruising jaw. 

“Did I attempt to commune with daedric princes at age eleven? No? _Shut your mouth_ ,” Lucia hisses, eyes narrowed. 

“There’s that bloodlust! I thought you lost it for a moment there,” Aventus says, grinning even though purple is already spreading like watercolor and it must hurt. 

“Anklebiters, you’re a bit big for bickering,” Teldryn calls out from where he’s helping Elaine. 

“You two always like this, or does being around your parents help?” Iron Bull asks, thoughtfully. 

“We usually fight more,” Aventus says cheerfully. “Ma and Pa _did_ make vicious adults out of traumatized children.”

Lucia glares. “They didn’t do anything of the sort. We weren’t that traumatized.”

Aventus gives her the unimpressed look Adhlea has seen on his father’s face. 

“ _Starving, begging, will I make it another week? A month? I will never feel so hollow again._ ”

Adhlea looks over at Cole, who’s now standing by Lucia. 

“Shoving down the hurts and pretending won’t make it feel better,” Cole says, cryptically. 

“Case and point,” Aventus says, reaching over to ruffle his sister’s short blond hair. 

“Riiight. I’m gonna go walk somewhere with more booze, Boss. And by that I mean Varric,” Bull says slowly, unnerved and walking towards said man. 

“I am very well adjusted!” Lucia says. “At least I’m not _Runa_.”

Aventus snorts. “Runa’s the mage advisor for Markarth, that’s plenty adjusted.”

“She married a Silver-Blood. Moot point.”

“Should I even ask?” Adhlea wonders aloud. 

“Yes.” “ _No_.”

Adhlea shakes her head. She doesn’t.

—

“Hahren, please, just shout away the rain,” Adhlea whines, tired of being wet. 

“Shout?” Solas asks. 

Elaine sighs. 

“No, not that odd thing you did to that dragon,” Cassandra declares. “ _Strange apostate magic_.”

“I’m intrigued!” Dorian says. 

“You would be,” Bull grumbles, giving Elaine a wary look. 

“ **_Lok Vah Koor_ **!” Elaine Shouts into the sky, with a capital S. 

Everyone but Teldryn, her children, Cassandra and Adhlea jump back. 

“ _What the fuck!_ ” Sera cries. 

The rain clears, sunshine peeking through the clouds for the first time in probably an age. 

“You cannot play with the Maker’s creation like that, Apostate!” Cassandra says, sounding more exasperated than mad. 

“Did she just- Varric, hand me that flask,” Blackwall says gruffly, holding out a hand at a shell shocked looking Varric. 

“I’m going to start charging. I’ll make hundreds,” Varric says faintly, handing over his flask. 

Adhlea casts the drying spell on herself, the one that took a week to manage without setting herself on fire, and she sighs happily.

“She just- _how_ . _Piss shit_ ,” Sera says, pointing a finger at Elaine. “Keep your mouth away from me!”

Elaine looks very tired of everyone’s shit. 

“Sera, trust in the fact I wouldn’t put my mouth near you in the first place,” Elaine says. 

“How?” Dorian asks, wide eyes on Elaine. “That magic felt- well it felt _ancient._ What- I’m stunned beyond words.”

“ _For once_ ,” Solas says lowly. 

“I am Dovahkiin,” Elaine starts. “I have the soul of a dragon inside me. It means I can shout as they do.”

“That makes no sense,” Vivienne says. “Dragons do not speak, let alone do complex magic such as that.”

“They did,” Solas says quietly. “Before the veil.”

All heads snap to the Elven Apostate. 

“Before the-” Varric starts. “Andraste’s tits. We need more alcohol for this. Let’s find a tavern, I’m sure there’s one somewhere on the king’s road.”

“Agreed,” Adhlea says. “I’m tired of this bog.”

“You knew about this? Inquisitor? Cassandra?” Vivienne asks. 

“I need to be drunker for this, Vivienne,” Cassandra says blandly. 

—

“You killed a world eating dragon!” Varric shouts. “For fucks sake- I’m throwing away all my notes. No one is going to believe any of this shit!”

“He was hardly world eating if I could kill him,” Elaine says grimly, before chugging a whole bottle of mead. 

“You’re- _blessed_ by a god,” Cassandra says. “Maker have mercy, my life has been a lie.”

“Akatosh is hardly a kind patron,” Elaine says, but no one is listening at this point. 

“If you ever even talk at me again-!” Sera threatens, poking an arrow threateningly at Elaine. 

“Sera, if I wanted to shout at you, you would’ve been shouted at already,” Elaine says. “As is, I have absolutely no reason to hurt you. _Ever_.”

Adhlea pulls Sera’s arrow out of her and glares at her. “Stop it.”

Sera gives Adhlea the most betrayed, drunken face, and Adhlea’s heart drops. 

“Oh- I’m sorry, I’m sorry, take the arrow back-!” Adhlea says quickly, panicked and shoving the arrow back into her hand. 

“I cannot believe this,” Vivienne hisses. “I _refuse_.”

“She _shouted_ the weather into clearing, Madame, it’s not a matter of believing,” Dorian says from where he’s frantically writing magical theories. 

“So there’s a dragon language? And you speak it?” Iron Bull asks Elaine, eyes wide. His fear of the unknown clearly is outweighed by dragons. 

“ _Frin nau hin qah_ ,” Elaine says simply. 

“Badass,” Bull says. “Teach me.”

“Oh no you don’t, not if you’re reporting this to your superiors,” Elaine chastises with narrowed eyes. “And if I find out you reported this to them, which I _will_ , I’ll bend your mind into mush, young man.”

“He’s three years younger than you, Elaine,” Teldryn says dryly from where he’s been watching the chaos. 

“Point stands.”

Adhlea is still trying to comfort Sera, who is glaring at her. It’s slow going. 

“So- please, let me get this straight,” Blackwall says weakly. “You are a hero of legend from another plane of existence, you came here, and now you’re just- _hanging out?_ ”

“That’s an apt description,” Aventus pipes up from where he’s seeing how far he can push Dorian’s tankard before it falls on him or he notices. 

“ _Maker’s sweaty ball_ s,” Blackwall says, before looking over at Adhlea. “Apologies, my lady.”

Adhlea waves him off, because she’s gotten Sera to at least shift into a pout instead of a glare. 

“You actually are the head of a magical college,” Vivienne says, looking like her worldview is cracking. “ _You-_ hand me that drink.” Vivienne snatches Cassandra’s tankard. 

Solas is very quiet, but that really isn’t new for him. Adhlea is very much more preoccupied with Sera. 

“Okay, you’re getting a separate book,” Varric says from where he’s been madly flipping through his notes, pointing his quil at Elaine. “I don’t have space for your bullshit in Bluebell’s. _Fucking void_.”

“Must I get a book? I have _songs_ ,” Elaine _whines._

“ _Our hero our hero-!_ ” Lucia starts without looking up from where she’s stopping Aventus’s efforts to pour ale on Dorian. 

Elaine gives her daughter the mom look. 

“You will make me a disgusting amount of money, so yes, you get a book,” Varric says, throwing his quill at the Dragonborn. “You’re worse than Hawke.”

Its best left unsaid how ridiculously drunk the Inner Circle got that night in a dingy Inn near the Fallow Mire. 

—

They’re still hungover when they make it back to Skyhold, all having an untold promise to never speak of the experience again. 

Except for Cole, Cole wasn’t drunk and was more confused than anything by the experience. 

Adhlea then gets to be in the war meeting where Leliana finally interrogates Elaine. 

“So. Another world?” 

Adhlea chokes on her own spit, looking quickly between the two women. 

“More another plane. Connected, but not by much,” Elaine explains. “I assumed it best to not tell you until you knew you could trust me. Avoid messy altercations.”

Leliana nods, eyes sharp. 

“And you have a way back?”

“Of course,” Elaine says. “Though forgive me if I am unwilling to share it. The path is old and without my strengthening it, it would have fallen apart soon. I think it best yours and mine do not come there and here.”

“And you are the exception?” Leliana asks. 

Elaine smiles, face so fully motherly and kind. 

“Always, unfortunately.”

Adhlea decides she never wants these two in the same room ever again. From the looks on Cullen and Josephine’s faces, they fully agree. 

—

Sera still doesn’t want to be near Elaine. 

“You liked her before!” Adhlea says, dodging a thrown book. 

“She wasn’t all _dragon soul-y before!_ ” Sera shouts back, scrambling out the window of her nook she’s created in the tavern. 

“She’s just as dragon soul-y as then!” Adhlea says, crawling out after her.

“You would say that! You made her your _mum_ and shite!” Sera says, climbing up the wall. 

“You’re scared of the unknown and unwilling to change your worldview!” Adhlea bites out, climbing after her. 

“You’re all _Elvhen Glory_! Head too stuck up your arse to see the rest of us!” Sera bites back, running across the battlements for Cullen’s office. 

“My head is not stuck up my ass! It’s not anatomically possible!” Adhlea shouts, sprinting after her and right behind her when she wrenches Cullen’s office door open. 

“What-?” Cullen starts. 

“She can shout clouds away! Normal people can’t shout clouds away!” Sera shouts at Adhlea, already pulling open the next door. 

“Well excuse me, Sera, I hadn’t realized you were the expert on normal!” Adhlea says, tossing her arms up as she follows. 

Cullen and Scout Jim watch the two of them leave. 

“You know what I mean!” Sera says hopping down onto the roof of the stables. 

“No, I don’t. You’re- you’re being _mage racist!_ ” Adhlea declares, following her through a hatch in the stables roof. 

“It ain’t racist if they’re weird!” Sera yells back, hopping down from the stables loft and scaring Blackwall away from his griffin rocker he’s carving. 

“What even-?” Blackwall starts. 

“See! That! That is mage racist! Just because you don’t understand magic doesn’t mean you get to be a dick!” Adhlea hops down after her, poking her chest. 

“I can’t be a dick, I ain’t got the dangly bits!” Sera yells very seriously.

They’re already walking again, towards the kitchens. Blackwall slow blinks and shakes his head, returning to the rocker. 

“Okay, then you’re being a right _tit_ , Sera! A saggy one!” Adhlea says as Sera wrenches open the kitchen door. 

“You take that back!” Sera yells while they step around wide eyed staff towards the next door. 

“I will not! Not until you stop being a saggy right tit!” Adhlea threatens. “Mages are people, and you shouldn’t be rude just because they can set things on fire! You can shoot arrows at people from deadly speeds and distances!”

“That’s different!” Sera hisses while they stomp of the stairs, passing Lucia who’s looking at them with raised eyebrows. 

“It is _not_!” Adhlea says when they reach Solas’s part of the atrium, said elf painting a mural and looking over at them with a lifted eyebrow. 

Dorian and Leliana peer down from their levels. 

“Arrows are different than shouting clouds away! It ain’t right! She’s not normal,” Sera says, glaring at Adhlea. 

“You aren’t normal either! And neither am I, or- or Varric or Cullen or Blackwall or _anyone!_ ” Adhlea yells. “There is no normal! Now stop being a saggy tit and be nice to Elaine!”

They’re both left breathing deeply from their fight that took place across the castle, scowling at each other. 

“You could cut that tension with a knife,” Dorian says idly from above. 

“Are you both quite done?” Solas asks, smirking. 

They both blink quickly, aware of their audience. 

Adhlea’s face turns bright red. 

“ _Fenhedis_ ,” Adhlea says. 

“ _Fine_ . But I’m _not_ touching Creepy,” Sera grumbles, shivering. “He looks where nobody wants.”

“Call him Cole and we have a deal,” Adhlea counters. 

“You are _not_ cute enough for that,” Sera says frankly. 

Adhlea makes a face. 

Sera groans. “ _Fine._ ”

Wait. Adhlea blinks. 

“Cute?” Adhlea asks. 

Dorian throws a book at them. 

“Quit being thick and kiss! I have five sovereigns on this!” Dorian says when the book misses its mark. 

Oh. _Oh._

“Oh.”

“Fuck off!” Sera crows at the Altus, giving him a rude gesture. “Let’s go put snow in Vivy’s bed.”

Adhlea nods, slowly, and decides to ignore that particular revelation for as long as possible. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bop it, twist it, pull it- 
> 
> How are you feeling about Adhlea’s growth?


	9. “Sweet Mother, Sweet Mother, send your child unto me. For the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear.”

“You know necromancy?” Dorian asks, sounding excited but trying to stifle it.

Adhlea looks over from where she’s been reading one of Elaine’s many spell books, this one on a Storm spell. 

Elaine hums. “Yes, it does happen when you’re a master Conjurer. I don’t favor it, though, as unlike the spells used here  _ my _ spells are truly bringing the original inhabitants of the corpses back to life, and the dead should be allowed to rest.”

“You- I haven’t a clue why I am surprised anymore,” Dorian murmurs, pinching his mustache. “ _ How _ ?”

“Souls are tied to their mortal form as intrinsically as any can be tied to a form they’ve known for so long,” Elaine explains easily. “My spells tugs the soul back to its old form, tugging at the weak tether so to speak.”

“And spirits do not function as the soul of a person?” Dorian asks, reaching over beside his chair and grabbing papers and a pencil to start making notes. 

Elaine chuckles, flipping through one of the banned books Dorian hoards. “No, though spirits are particularly strong souls who end up changing forms and cutting that tether. So don’t worry, you’re not harassing our dead enemies when you bring them back.”

Dorian is scribbling quickly onto the papers. 

“So you can bring people back to life? For real?” Adhlea asks, wide eyed. 

She and Teldryn had said something about bringing someone back.

Elaine steps further into Dorian’s alcalove and flicks a hand, a silvery barrier now cutting them off from the rest of the tower, all the ambient noise that was previously there cutting out. 

“Yes,” Elaine says simply. 

“Wait- One, how, two, I’ve never seen a noise dampening spell made that effectively without blood,” Dorian says, standing from his chair and walking over to tap the barrier. 

“With a mastery in the schools of Conjuration and Restoration, and no new spells to learn, you begin to innovate,” Elaine says, gently pushing Dorian’s hand away from the barrier. “Be careful with it, it’s a modified ward and isn’t built for heavy damage. Think bubble.”

Dorian hums, and Adhlea is still confused. 

“If you can bring people back to life, why don’t you do it?” Adhlea asks. 

“Balance,” Elaine says. “Life is tied to death from the moment you first breathe. I cannot save everyone, nor should I, and to release such a spell would create chaos.”

Oh. That makes sense. 

“Ah, so I cannot convince you to teach it to me? For science?” Dorian asks glumly, looking at Elaine. 

Elaine pats Dorian’s shoulder, looking apologetic. 

“I’m certain if pressed you could find it alone, you did manage to figure out time magic, Dorian,” Elaine says kindly, before blinking. “Oh, that sick friend of yours, I never got a chance to look him over. Is he still here with the Inquisition or has he returned to Tevinter?”

Dorian grimaces. 

“He will stay until our dear Inquisitor passes judgement on his father.”

Adhlea stills. 

She knew she was forgetting something. 

“Must I?” Adhlea asks weakly. 

Dorian shakes his head. “You are in charge, dear Herald, whether you enjoy it or not.”

“Could you have him report to my Healing Ward? I would like to look over this blight sickness,” Elaine says, kicking the barrier and making it shatter into silver sparkles. 

Dorian’s eyes widen, before he schools his features, quickly. 

“You- The blight has no cure, Elaine,” Dorian says, but something in his voice implies he wants to be proven wrong. 

Elaine grins a toothy grin. 

“I cannot promise miracles, but I think I may be able to cook something up,” Elaine says. 

Can’t promise-  _ she can bring people back to life?? _

What is her definition of miracle???

You know what? Adhlea looks back down at the spellbook and shakes her head. She’s still not paid enough to ask those kinds of questions, and she’s technically Elaine’s boss. 

Wait. 

“Hahren, am I technically your boss?” Adhlea asks. 

Elaine blinks. “Well, yes. I must say it’s refreshing, not having to do all the organizing on my own. Much less paperwork,” Elaine pauses. “Oh. Ah, I need to do something. Dorian, my dear? Send your friend to the ward. I’ll be back…  _ soon. _ ”

And with that, Elaine walks over to the edge of the fence keeping people from falling to the lower level of the Roundetta and  _ hops down _ . 

“Hello Solas!”

“Elaine, I do not think you should take advantage of the falling enchantments.”

“Oh don’t be so boring- right. Must focus. I’ll see you soon!”

Adhlea and Dorian share a glance. 

“I’m scared to hope,” Dorian says weakly. “But I think that woman has proven she accomplishes what she sets out to do.”

Adhlea nods, numbly, pulling out a flask and holding it out to him. 

Dorian rolls his eyes and grabs an expensive wine bottle stashed between his books. 

“I am not so  _ common _ , dear Inquisitor.”

Adhlea sticks her tongue out at him. 

“That’s rude, we’re all stuck in the South together, Dorian.”

—

Adhlea walks into the Healing Ward in hopes of coaxing Elaine into providing moral support during the judgement and joining more Warmeetings. 

She isn’t prepared to see her holding a crying Felix gently. 

“I thought- I was okay with it. I don’t know how to live,” Felix sobs. 

“That’s okay,” Elaine says. “It’s okay to be terrified, to not know what to do with this time returned after it was stolen. It’s okay.”

Adhlea stares wide eyed at the two. 

“I’ll just… come back later?” Adhlea asks. 

Felix jumps out of Elaine’s hold, wiping his face and schooling his features. 

“Inquisitor! I,” Felix starts. 

“No! No, it’s okay,” Adhlea says quickly. “Whatever you’re feeling is perfectly okay and I’m sorry to interrupt. Do you need more hugs? My Keeper said hugs make people feel better when sad, and also big trees to stab.”

Felix looks so tired. What the hell did Adhlea just walk into? 

Adhlea’s eyes widen. 

“Are you dying- or, no, you’re not dying anymore?” Adhlea says, voice getting higher. “Oh I’m so happy for you! You should tell Dorian!” 

Elaine holds up a hand and Adhlea closes her mouth, not saying more. 

“Unless my patient wishes to tell him, best keep this to ourselves, little dear. Felix? It will take me a few moments to make the potion, and if I’m correct I should be able to heal most of the long term damage your body has suffered after you drink it,” Elaine explains to Felix, healer mode on. 

Felix nods, eyes red rimmed and looking over at Adhlea. “I need to tell my father please, before he’s judged.”

Adhlea nods. “Of course, I can show you his room, I have one of the only keys. You get yourself healed and I can go take you to him.”

Part of Adhlea is a bit wary about showing him straight to his father’s room once he’s all healed up, but he’s helped stop his father’s evil doing before. It’s not like he’s going to jump ship now. 

Mythal have mercy.  _ Elaine found a cure for blight sickness _ . 

This- This changes everything! With a cure they’ll be able to combat the blights so much easier. 

Not that Adhlea remembers much of the last one, she was just a kid, but  _ still _ . 

“Just a warning though, the ritual I’m doing is going to feel very uncomfortable,” Elaine says from where she’s mixing up a potion. 

“I’ll take very uncomfortable if I have to,” Felix says with a weak smile. 

“And there is. Ah, blood involved? No spirits! Just blood,” Elaine says quickly. 

Felix has paled. 

“Blood magic?”

“No. Why do all of you Thedosians assume it must be blood magic,” Elaine grumbles. 

“Well, it’s in the name, hahren,” Adhlea says. “Do you need help?”

“Your healing spells aren’t nearly stable enough for what I’d need you to do, love,” Elaine says. 

Adhlea doesn’t pout. She does not. 

“I can close a stab wound!” Adhlea argues. 

“And leave the internal bleeding,” Elaine says, not skipping a beat. 

That’s fair. 

“Are you certain there needs to be blood?” Felix asks. 

“Yes. Doing it without blood is for dead bodies that don’t mind exploding.” Elaine turns from where she’s now holding a still steaming potion. “Drink this, it will clear any impurities from your blood.  _ And keep you from dying _ .” She mumbles that last bit and Adhlea makes a face. 

“And you’re certain, Lady Marquardt?” Felix asks, holding the potion with a dubious look on his face. 

“You watched me cure that red lyrium. Same concept, except I can’t do that exact ritual. You’ll go boom,” Elaine hums. 

“Well. I’ve taken odder potions,” Felix grumbles, plugging his nose and downing the potion in one go. 

Adhlea’s eyes widen when he doubles over, and Elaine has somehow conjured a bucket for him to hold while he seems to-

Throw up a very gross black goo?

“Hahren you need to warn people before you make them throw up odd substances!” Adhlea hisses, glaring at the unphased woman. 

“If they expect it they tense up and hesitate!” Elaine says with a huff, patting Felix’s back. “There there, my dear. That is a  _ lot _ of tainted substance, I wonder what it’s made from?”

Adhlea pinches the bridge of her nose, wondering why she’s still surprised. 

“ _ Hahren, please don’t do experiments on the odd black goo. _ ”

“I’m not! I’m simply. Observing. My, there really is a lot!”

—

Adhlea sits on her throne, because apparently that’s a thing that people do, and remembers what Elaine told her. 

“ _ I’ve found that leaning back and crossing your legs makes a pretty picture when you’re seated on a throne. Oh? And try to get some usefulness out of that Alexius. He’s a genius, if a bit of a dumbass one. _ ”

Adhlea channels all of her “this is fine” energy and looks out at the crowd gathered, Alexius being dragged up before her and shoved to the ground. Eyes still reddened from the revelation hours ago that his son would live. 

Shit. Now Adhlea feels bad. 

“You recall Gereon Alexius of Tevinter. Ferelden has given him to us as acknowledgement of our aid,” Josephine begins, looking from the man slumped before them to her clipboard. 

“The formal charges are Apostasy, attempted enslavement, attempted assassination, on your own life no less.”

Wait. Nevermind, Adhlea doesn’t feel bad anymore. He  _ did _ try to enslave the mages and kill her, didn’t he?

Honestly so many people have tried to kill her at this point she sort of forgot. 

“Tevinter has disowned and stripped him of his rank. You may judge the former Magister as you see fit,” Josephine finishes. 

“I would say a funny quip about how you almost tore time apart, but my Hahren did it too to save me, so I’ll settle for being very  _ very _ annoyed,” Adhlea says, frowning at the man. 

Alexius lets out a wet laugh. 

“It was all worth it, was it not?” Alexius says, looking up with watery eyes. “You have saved my son. I regret nothing, as I have gotten what I wished in the end. Even if from a different source”

“Will you offer nothing more in your defense?” Josephine asks, lips pinched. 

“I have gotten what I came south for,” Alexius says simply. “Render your judgement,  _ Inquisitor _ .”

Alright Adhlea feels a little bad again, but the ends do not justify the means here! Freaking adults always pretending that as long as they had good intentions, doing bad is appropriate. 

“You’re a genius, even if you decided to throw your lot in with the blighted ancient darkspawn,” Adhlea says. “You’ll serve under our mages, and any knowledge, favor, and coin you have will go towards their future. They were almost enslaved by you, Fiona will be your superior.”

There. That’s okay, right? Right?

Ugh. Adhlea’s going to get grey hairs at this rate. 

Alexius simply nods, before being taken away. 

“And, on a much lighter note, we have an Avvar Chieftain who has been throwing goats at the castle.”

**_What._ **

Elaine is cackling in the crowd when they bring out the big Avvar man. 

“You killed my son. It is only tradition that I coat your hold on goats blood,” The Avvar man says with a grin. 

How Adhlea manages to switch that situation around into having that clan raid Tevinter, Adhlea has no clue, but from the way Elaine’s eyes trail after him when they haul him off again Adhlea thinks they’ll be getting armed by the Dragonborn personally. 

—

“The ball at the Winter palace is but a month away,” Josephine says, looking down at the wartable. “If we intend on stopping this assassination attempt we should begin our more…  _ delicate _ preparations now.”

“Oh I do love a good ball,” Elaine hums from where she’s checking a long suffering Cullen’s temperature. “Though the nobles are usually much more afraid of me back home. I look forward to poking at these ones.”

“ _ Poking- _ Archmage Marquardt I must insist you take the Game deadly seriously,” Josephine says, looking like she’s imagining all the ways this could go wrong. 

Elaine laughs. “Yes yes, doom and gloom to all those who don’t take the deadly whims of the rich seriously,” Elaine says. “Trust me, my dear, I have been playing with Thanes and nobles since you were in  _ nappies _ . The Inquisition will not suffer for my fun.”

“As you were saying though, Josie, dancing lessons are likely in order for most of the Inner Circle,” Leliana explains. “And we must finalize those uniform designs.”

“Uniforms?” Elaine asks, head tilted. 

“We have a set of designs here, actually, if you wish to look them over as well. We have already consulted Madame Vivienne,” Josephine says, reaching into the table under a few of her papers and handing over some papers to Elaine. 

Adhlea peers over Elaine’s shoulder, and makes a face at the stuffy design. 

“Well, you have not incorporated enough fur to have us confused with nords, but may I suggest a color other than ‘please stab me’ red?” Elaine asks, flipping through the designs with critical eyes. “I’ve seen the popular fashion these Orleisians favor, as well as the Fereldens. A militaristic uniform style will give us more the look of invaders than a unified front.”

Elaine looks up at Leliana, Cullen, and Josephine. “Unless, of course, that was what you were going for.”

Needless to say, they didn’t get those uniforms, though Adhlea still got stuck with dance lessons. 

—

“All I’m saying is Runa won’t forgive you for letting her miss out on a foreign ball.”

“And all  _ I  _ am saying is that Runa would eat these Orleisians alive,” Elaine says with a huff. “What, are you not entertained with one terrifying sister?”

Aventus snorts. “One can never have too many terrifying sisters, why do you think I am teaching Senna to sling daggers like she was born with them?”

Solas walks into the Healing Ward fully now. 

“Forgive me for eavesdropping, but are you going to get another one of your children?” Solas asks politely. 

“Oh all is forgiven, I do it too,” Elaine says, waving her hand at him from where she is mixing a potion. “My daughter, Runa, enjoys playing the game, as you people call it. Aventus is very keen that I bring her here to have a bit of fun. Majorly I think he just wants to watch her make nobles cry.”

“Guilty as charged,” Aventus says, standing beside his mother with his arms crossed. 

“Would there be reason not to bring her?” Solas asks curiously, coming up beside her to watch her handle ingredients with efficiency born of years of familiarity. 

“She is the arcane advisor to a court,” Elaine says, slicing through a mushroom. “Very busy. Though I doubt she would say no to- Aventus, hand me the blue mountain flowers my dear.”

Aventus does so, rolling his eyes good naturedly. 

“What was I saying?” Elaine grumbles, cutting the blue flowers from their stems with precision. “Right. Fine, Aventus, but you will be assisting those dancing lessons and you won’t pretend I didn’t train you in infiltration like I did for no reason.”

Infiltration? Solas supposed it’s to be expected from a woman who evidently runs an assassin guild. 

Aventus huffs. “Is that as my Listener or as my mother?” 

Elaine gives her son a look. “ _ Both.  _ You are the fool who decided to work for your mother. Now finish these potions. I’ll leave now.”

Solas blinks in surprise as Elaine steps away from the apothecary station, waving a hand and having various items fly to her person to be tucked away in what Solas assumes are hidden pockets. 

Frankly, Solas doesn’t know how she stores things. He watched her pull out a  _ whole cheese wheel _ once. Those robes are  _ not _ baggy enough to hide a cheese wheel as long as Elaine’s forearm. 

“Solas, my dear friend, if you see Adhlea tell her I’ll be gone a day or two and be back with a friend. And coin. Likely coin,” Elaine hums, waving goodbye at Solas and Aventus as she walks up the stairs to the courtyard. 

Solas tries to wipe the shock from his face quickly. 

“She does that,” Aventus says, and Solas turns to see the tall human already finishing the work his mother started. “Has been since I met her. Easily distracted for a quadruple savior of the world.”

“Four times?” Solas asks quietly. 

This woman was a threat from the first time he saw her look at the Breach knowingly. He would prefer to have her on his side, but should she prove problematic to his plans…

Well. All things can die. Even this…  _ Dovahkiin.  _

“Alduin, vampire lord trying to blot out the sun, first dragonborn trying to enslave an island and start conquesting,” Aventus explains plainly, listing off fingers. “And keeping the Aldmeri Dominion from conquering and enslaving everyone. She’s wonderful, isn’t she?”

Aventus turns and grins at Solas, a look he has seen on his mother’s face, but never promising so much blood. 

That, is a grin of torn out throats and thousands of dead enemies. A promise of violence. 

Solas has not forgotten that despite he and his sister being pale in comparison to Elaine, they are just as dangerous, and feel just as alive as the ancient Elvhen, never so cut off from magical power as these tranquil Solas walks among. 

“You are fond of her, for an adoptive mother,” Solas observes. 

“She saved me and my siblings,” Aventus says. “Sithis sent. The sins of the unworthy baptized in blood and fear.”

Solas stifles a shiver at those words, the quiet…  _ wrongness _ in them beyond strange wording. 

“Sithis is your god, is he not?” Solas asks. “I have heard you invoke his name.”

Aventus pours what seems to be a healing potion into a pink bottle. 

“The Dread Father, the void,” Aventus says, idle humor in his words. “Yes. I prefer him to the Divines. Much more room for blood and ritual sacrifice in his darkness than in say,  _ Akatosh _ .”

Solas is still attempting to wrap his head around the fact that there are in fact gods, and they seem to favor Elaine. 

The idea of a god who quite favors blood and ritual sacrifice is not a comforting one. 

“And you say he sent Elaine unto you?” Solas asks. 

“Of course,” Aventus says. “She is the Night Mother’s Listener, the one who can hear the contracts invoked in his name. Even if she prefers to leave that life in her past.”

_ More _ gods who favor this woman?

“It’s been fun, but unless you’re going to spar,  _ I _ need to get that adrenaline pumping,” Aventus hums, setting down the potions he made in their apparent designated spot and brushing past Solas. 

“Oh, and if you look like you’re contemplating how to kill my mother again, I’ll eviscerate you. Slowly,” Aventus says cheerfully as he walks out, not pausing. 

Solas watches him go, still. 

Yes. None of these Marquardts are to be taken lightly. Ever. 

Solas will be redoing the protective wards in his room while he’s at it. 

—

Adhlea hops from foot to foot, Sera beside her. 

“If I gotta do one more ponsy big people dance someone’s getting arrows,” Sera hisses, and Adhlea takes it for the threat it is. 

“Point it at someone other than me, Sera, I haven’t got a thing to do with that crap,” Adhlea says, eyes trained on the gates. 

“You’re the one with the big breaches,” Sera says, reaching over to jab two fingers in Adhlea’s side. “Nothing to do with it my  _ arse _ .”

Adhlea yelps at the jab, glaring at Sera. 

“Mean. Very mean. I never said you had to  _ go _ to the stupid lessons,” Adhlea says, sticking out her tongue at the older girl. 

“That sneaky assassin fucker wouldn’t let me escape!” Sera says. “All big creepy smiles and ‘come now Sera it wouldn’t do well to disappoint Madame Josephine’. I’m putting snakes in his bed.”

“Where are you going to get-” Adhlea starts, but stops herself with a shake of her head. “Nevermind. Don’t tell me.”

“Healer Marquardt approaching!” Someone calls by the gate, and Adhlea snaps her head over to look. 

Said healer is on her sturdy cream colored horse with three people following on their own horses. 

“-no Francois, you’re on thin ice after that bear.”

Two of the new people have the black paint on their upper lips, and a gold line bisecting their bottom lip down. It must be a family thing? The last probably has it too, but her lower face is covered by a black mask. 

Oh. This is more of Elaine’s probably scary powerful children. Adhlea thought she was only grabbing  _ one _ ?

“It has it coming, Mother,” A pretty blonde man with gold eyeshadow declares. 

“Yes, I’m sure it did. What I mind is how long it took to wash the guts off of my robes, young man,” Elaine says.

“I’m thirty-four,” Francois, the pretty man, says. 

“Francois, dear brother, I’m thirty-three and I’m still more mature than you. Age clearly doesn’t matter at heart in this case,” A pretty woman says, blonde hair pulled up into a braided updo and smirking. 

“You’re both idiots in equal,” The final dark haired and mask covered woman says lowly, ebony dark eyes snapping onto Adhlea. 

Adhlea jumps. 

Elaine dismounts from her horse and spots Adhlea. 

“Adhlea! Sera! Come meet my children. I went for one and grabbed two extra again,” Elaine says with a grin. 

“Nuh uh, they’ve got weird all over them and the blonde lady’s got big person all on her,” Sera hisses. 

“If you don’t like them you can put snow in their beds later,” Adhlea mumbles to her, grabbing her hand and tugging her along towards them. 

Sera groans but walks with her, eyeing the three new people warily. 

The dark haired woman’s eyes are still on Adhlea, calculating, and Adhlea pretends she’s much bigger than she is. 

“Adlhlea and Sera, this is my daughter Runa,” Elaine gestures to the pretty blonde woman. “My other daughter, Sofie,” Elaine points to the dark haired woman. “And finally my son, Francois.”

Each of them give some sort of a hello as they dismount from their horses. 

“Oh she’s the one with the anchor, is she not?” Francois says, dark eyes lighting up and coming over to Adhlea. “May I see your hand? I can feel the faint residue in the air but…”

Adhlea holds out her glowing palm, much to Sera’s verbal annoyance. 

Francois holds Adhlea’s hand gently with callused hands, analyzing the green mark spiraling around her palm. 

“Oh that is a powerful piece,” Runa pipes in, looking over her shorter brother’s shoulder. “You can smell the ancient magicks. Has it spread since you closed the breach?” 

Adhlea shakes her head. “Not as far as I can tell.”

“Alright get your mitts off Inky,” Sera interrupts, smacking Francois’s hands away from Adhlea. “You saw your Elaine, now let’s  _ go _ .”

Adhlea sighs. 

“I’ll see you all soon, probably when everyone piles into the tavern. Goodbye!” Adhlea calls, being dragged away. 

“They’re a cute pair,” Adhlea hears Francois quip. 

“Oh certainly, now let’s see to it that someone told the advisors I was getting new people, come along my loves.”

—

Sofie Marquardt is not prone to idle adventure. 

Her family is quick to distraction, quick to the next shiny thing, caught up in adrenaline and fast pumping thrills to make their blood rush. 

No. Sofie remembers quite starkly being without a home, shivering in the cold and almost losing fingers to frostbite. She remembers what few battles she had faced with cold clarity, remembers every close call and the dull violence. 

She chose to become an alchemist, she chose to have children with an ex battlemage and stay in her warm home, she chose subtly. Something her family does not excel in. 

Her and Aleson, the children of the Dragonborn who became merchants? Non-combatants? So quickly forgotten. 

She prefers it as such. 

“ _ Sofie _ ,” Aventus practically purrs, throwing an arm around her shoulder. “It has been a while.”

“Five months isn’t so long,” Sofie murmurs, eyes looking out on the people bustling through this castle. Observing. 

“Your interest has been piqued,” Aventus says simply. 

Sofie smiles, under her dark mask. Aventus sees the slight curl of her eyes and grins. 

“Strange portals, odd Breton Balls, holes in the sky,” Sofie lists quietly. “Who wouldn’t be?”

Aventus has not, in fact, forgotten that Sofie could make poisons that could kill a Nord in twelve seconds. He is, after all, her best customer. 

“And the husband?” Aventus asks. “Still a bumbling fool?”

Sofie gives her elder brother an unimpressed look. 

“He serves his purpose. Watching the store and the girls.”

“I should visit them too. Little Gaiena just lost her first tooth, yes?” Aventus asks. 

Sofie notes the way people walk widely around the two of them, all too aware that they’ve probably already been exposed to her family’s dreadful lack of subtlety. 

“She was very proud,” Sofie murmurs. “I’m certain she’d like a gift from her favored uncle when she sees you next.”

Aventus laughs. “Me? Her favorite? Oh I’m going to rub it in Samuel’s pretty bearded face.”

They remain silent for a few moments, both watching the child Herald of these people’s god hurry up a set of stairs in the courtyard. 

“Francois collected the books, yes?”

Sofie nods. 

“I’ve never seen Mother so…  _ upset _ ,” Aventus says quietly, wary of unwelcome listening ears. “Not knowing is her greatest pet peeve.”

An understatement. 

Runa and Francois are some of the leading Masters of the Arcane in Tamriel, let alone Skyrim. She would not have collected them if she didn’t need sounding boards. Sofie is idly surprised she didn’t grab Blaise as well, but he’s south in Cyrodiil with Ninanu. Too far a walk for such a time sensitive issue. 

“Should magic not give the answers she wishes,” Sofie says quietly, voice deceptively idle. “I assume I am here to assist.”

Alchemy. 

Oh Sofie could shut off the nerves in that girl’s arm with ease, stifle the blood flow. 

Make amputation painless. 

Her Mother didn’t say that it was an option, but Sofie knows her well enough that she’ll do whatever it takes to protect a child. Even if it means taking an arm. 

“I wonder how quickly everything will fall apart if she's forced to collect the rest of us,” Aventus says, smirking. No indication of the serious conversation that had taken place previously. 

If Sofie were a lesser woman, not oft given the moniker “Sofie the Ice Carved”, she would grimace. 

No. Five of the Marquardt siblings are quite enough. Overkill, frankly. 

Then again, her mother does not think in calculation when it comes to her children. Should the desire come up she would wander off to collect the rest of them without thought.

“Five is enough,” Sofie says gravely.

Aventus laughs. Always quick to laugh, for one so openly unhinged. 

It’s a trick, of course. Truth wrapped around truth. People forget him too, forget you do not survive as long as he has in his career without being capable of terrible things. 

Sofie likes to watch people froth at the mouth and twitch from a well placed drop of nightshade extract, though, so she has no room to talk. 

It’s telling that the most odd of the Dragonborn’s children are both from Windhelm. Sofie idly blames the idiot Stormcloak rebellion she half remembers, the one that took her biological father and turned Nords into nationalist fools. 

“Does Lucia count as two, with her furry little problem?” Aventus asks in teasing. 

Sofie jabs two fingers into a pressure point in Aventus’s side, and watches him double over passively. 

“Not a wink of subtlety in any in this family,” Sofie says without inflection, turning to start walking towards her mother’s Healing Ward. 

“Love you too, dear sister,” Aventus says with a wheezing chuckle. 

If Sofie were a lesser woman she would roll her eyes. As is, she lets the warm amusement in her chest bubble up softly. 

She missed her family. Even if they are the smartest fools she’s met. Her daughters are her soul, but these were her first loves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three more Marquardts running around? It’s like they multiply. 
> 
> Do you like them so far? Though I suppose you haven’t seen much of them yet. Also, thoughts on that cure to the Blight?
> 
> Also! I have a Dragon Age discord if you wanna join at your own peril   
> https://discord.gg/wWMvkDn


	10. “I look forward to hearing about the next person you murder!”

Shifting. Left, down right, weakness in that swing-

Elaine grabs the wrist of her opponent with one hand and sends a leg kicking out at their ankles, other hand slamming against their throat and smacking them into the ground. 

It smells like sweat and blood and, in the very least, the blood isn’t Elaine’s. 

Her opponent is choking, their daggers out of reach and clawing at Elaine’s hand. 

“Now who, exactly, do you work for?” Elaine asks with a soft smile, threading the Aetherium to her will and stringing ease through the mind of the enemy below her. 

They slump, relaxed, unbothered by the lack of air she’s allowing them. 

Elaine hums, loosening her grip. It would be counterproductive to ask for answers and give them no air to speak. 

Blood is sluggishly pooling around the assassin’s head like a gruesome halo, like the gold painted circles these Andrastians like to paint around their messiah. 

Elaine, idly, wonders if Adhlea will be painted with those gold circles some day. 

Right. Head wounds bleed. The assassin’s mind seems stable enough for now that she doesn’t need to worry about it. 

“The Qun,” The assassin- no, spy then, says without inflection. 

The elf below Elaine had been masquerading as a servant. It’s good she caught them now, avoid messier solutions to would be spies on her conversations. 

It’s unlucky for this Qun that Elaine does not start sensitive conversations without casting detect life and detect undead first. 

“Who are you sending your reports to?” Elaine asks, eyes half lidded. 

Steps. 

Elaine strengthens the harmony spell she shoved into this spy with a flick of her hand, and rolls just in time to avoid an attempted backstab. 

Elaine turns. 

Small, woman, panicked. Certainly if emotional relevance to the spy Elaine was interrogating from that look on her face. 

“Now  _ that _ wasn’t very nice,” Elaine says, sidestepping out of the way of three thrown knives. 

Quaint. She hasn’t encountered thrown knives since that visit to Valenwood. 

Straightening her robes, Elaine tilts her head at this determined and scared looking opponent. 

“Will you too need mind magicks to be agreeable, little one? Or will you tell me what I need to know,” Elaine says kindly, smiling warmly. 

Elaine’s heartbeat is steady. Fighting, fighting she is familiar with, her body wired for action. The visible adrenaline shake in the other woman’s hands and the pupil dilation are almost endearing. 

“You shem are all the same, condescending and cruel,” The woman says with a sneer. 

Elaine laughs. 

“Oh, no, my dear. That’s all me, no need for human blood.”

Elaine prowls forward, breaking the woman’s dagger holding wrist with a loud snap, like a twig. 

The woman makes a stifled yelping sound. Elaine shoves her into the wall by her throat. Draws her back. Thrashes her into it again twice. 

Concussion. Skull fractures. Dislocated shoulder. Ah. She should avoid crushing that windpipe, she needs this one alive and able to speak. 

Well, ensuring her skull doesn’t break little pieces off into her brain is another thing Elaine should avoid. 

Elaine chances a glance at the other enemy, still feeling the threads of her magic in them, before looking at this woman fully again. 

Bleeding from the mouth. Oh, she might have bit out her tongue. 

_ Inconvenient _ . 

Elaine does not bother being gentle with this altered harmony spell, mixing will bending subservience and uncaring for how it affects this one’s mind. 

The woman lets out one final defiance, a choked sob, before slumping. 

Elaine has her. 

Elaine uses her free hand not on this one’s throat to open the elf’s mouth, and clucks her tongue. Yes, she most certainly bit through her own tongue. 

Elaine sews the tissue back together with an annoyed look. The smell of blood is thick in the air, iron so heavy she can practically taste it. It’s likely thanks to the fact she’s operating on an open mouth wound, but. Details. 

Her opponent’s eyes, once bright green, are now glazed. Free will snapped. Dead fish-like. 

Elaine doesn’t enjoy this spell, but frankly, she does not have the patience to maintain this one kindness. 

“Who do you report to?” Elaine asks her once she has released the woman’s throat and watched her slide to a sitting position against the wall. 

“Scout Harrow,” The woman says dully. 

An infiltration in the Spymaster’s scouts? Hm. 

Or a double agent. 

Regardless, this is something to be investigated. 

When Elaine hears more footsteps outside the room she’s getting truly annoyed. Thoughtful enemies just rush her all at once so she may do the fighting first and then the questioning, damn it all. 

The door opens, Elaine calling fire to her fingertips now, but she relaxes when she sees her husband’s familiar helm. 

Teldryn whistles low, shutting the door. 

“Busy?” He asks. 

Elaine snorts. “Always. The Qun has placed  _ spies _ on me.”

Teldryn snickers, the ass. “And you’re surprised why?”

“Go be useful and get the spymaster, Dii Sil,” Elaine grumbles, glaring good naturedly at Teldryn. 

“Of course, of course. Reduced to messenger,” Teldryn says with a sigh, wandering back out of the room. 

Elaine rolls her eyes and focuses back on the broken woman sitting before her. 

A shame. Her father had always cautioned her on patience. 

—

Adhlea wakes up to find out one, they have way more infiltrated Qunari spies than they should. Two, Elaine can mindbreak someone if she wants. Three, Adhlea’s started her monthly blood. 

All in all, a terrible start!

Oh. And four. Sera is absolutely not allowed to know Elaine can just break someone’s brain into submission. That’s an advisors’ only secret. Because Sera  _ will _ start trying to stick arrows in Elaine and it’ll ruin all of the progress Adhlea has made. 

“The Iron Bull is not to be informed, certainly,” Josephine says with a sigh. “Leliana, you’re combing the servants now aren’t you?”

Leliana nods. “It will take time, I cannot simply pluck them all enmasse, but I have faith in my agents.”

Adhlea leans over the War Table, cramping and achy and feeling a migraine coming on. The pieces are all so small, but mean so much for real life. 

That’s a metaphor, right? She’s so small and yet she apparently means to freaking much in the course of the world at large?

“Are you alright little dear?” Elaine asks beside her, remarkably still the same as always after this morning’s shit. 

Which, again, Adhlea doesn’t know why she keeps getting surprised. 

“I’m on my monthly,” Adhlea grumbles, not looking up but hearing the choked little noise in the back of Commander Cullen’s throat. 

_ Shems _ . Always weird about things that are perfectly normal. And they never hug! Some shit about propriety. Not in her makeshift, bickering clan! She’s gonna make an Inquisitor rule that the Inner Circle has to hug someone everyday and  _ no one can stop her _ . 

Oh Lahlas would be laughing at her now. Forget how  _ Gramma Lavellan _ would be reacting. 

Mythal have mercy on her. Everything sucks. 

“Oh why didn’t you say?” Elaine says with a cluck of her tongue, and Adhlea hears the tell tale rustling of her robes that means she’s looking for something. 

“Where do you store all of those  _ items _ ?” Cullen asks Elaine. 

“Here and there,” Elaine says. “Why? Do you need something too? _ Have you been taking your potions _ ?”

“ _ Maker- _ Forget I asked.”

Elaine hands Adhlea a small pink bottle, and Adhlea downs it in one gulp without question. 

Which, with any other person, would be very stupid of her.  _ Eh _ . If Elaine wanted to poison her she definitely wouldn’t have just handed her the poison disguised as cramp medicine. 

Which Elaine wouldn’t! Poison her. Should she feel bad thinking about that? Even if it’s just in her head?

“I would say we need to figure out  _ why _ the Qun is interested in tailing Elaine, but that would be a stupid question,” Adhlea grumbles, grabbing the notes on the information Elaine interrogated out of the two spies. “How much did they know, and do we know how much they reported to their superiors?”

No one responds, and Adhlea looks up, before flushing.

Oh. She sounded like a real leader for a moment there. 

Haha.

At least she’s not cramping anymore.

“Scout Harrow has been retrieved and Leliana enlisted my assistance in interrogating her,” Elaine jumps in with her motherly smile. “We will no doubt pull the threads of their network in the Inquisition apart within a week or two. Hopefully without inciting an invasion!”

Adhlea makes a face at that last bit.

“That is not comforting, Archmage Elaine,” Josephine says with a sigh, writing something furiously on her clipboard. “I will help in damage control, ensure the majority of Skyhold’s inhabitants are unaware.”

“Iron Bull will need to be informed though,” Elaine says. 

“He is working for the enemy,” Cullen interjects. “We cannot give him space to warn them!”

“Trust me when I say he wants the Qun here as much as we do, Cullen.”

“It is not a matter of trust, I am simply,  _ rightfully _ , wary.”

_ Bickering clanmates _ . 

“He’s Inner Circle,” Adhlea says. “For better or worse, him knowing what’s going on can help with damage control, rather than leaving him in the dark.”

Cullen looks like he’s trying not to grimace, but nods. Trusting her judgement.

After that they go over the status of Cullen’s soldiers combing through the Fallow Mire for resources, Leliana reallocating scouts to assist in combing the servants and soldiers for previously unknown agents, and Josephine’s work in buttering up the Orleisians for the Winter Palace Ball in three weeks. Oh, and Elaine’s progress in creating a more readily available cure to the Red Lyrium. 

“I will need live subjects to see about curing those infected with it,” Elaine says offhandedly, writing something in her journal with chicken scratch handwriting- or is that another language altogether? Adhlea just thought her handwriting was illegible!

“Live experimentation is frowned upon, Hahren,” Adhlea says dryly, expression half pained.

“Oh not experimentation! I already know enough to not make them combust, but I do need to find the most effective way of flushing the blighted substance from their system. I suppose those things-- nugs, are they?-- Would do. But from what I have read they have a strange resistance to the blight.”

“Let’s take this conversation somewhere where our Commander won’t hear, he looks like he’s going to throw up,” Adhlea says, already feeling resigned to whatever strange miracle her Hahren comes up with next. “War Meeting adjourned?” 

A chorus of agreement sounds and Adhlea and Elaine begin trekking out of the too pretty War Room and into the dynamic, washed in golden light, hallway that leads into Josephine’s office.

“You should come eat with my family tonight, little dear.”

Adhlea looks over at Elaine with wide eyes.

“Oh, like when the Inner Circle was tavern night?” Adhlea asks.

Elaine laughs. “Yes, dear, like Tavern night. A proper introduction is due for you, Sofie, Francois and Runa.” 

“Alright,” Adhlea says. “When and where do you want me to come around?”

Elaine hums, tapping her chin. 

“Six o’clock? You know where my room is don’t you, love?”

Adhlea nods, mentally adding it to her plans for the day, besides checking on her Inner Circle and informing Iron Bull about the messy situation with the Qun. 

Oh, and dance lessons. She forgot about those stupid things. It’s not like she’s bad at it, she just wants to be somewhere else, preferably away from Vivienne’s eyes judging her every move.

And there’s Sera’s determination to annoy Aventus away from dragging her into dancing lessons. Her  _ efforts _ have a side effect of annoying everyone else in the room too. 

\--

Bull, as expected, is not happy about current events.

“Shit.”

And very eloquent.

“I’m trusting that you don’t want us going at odds with the Qun, Bull,” Adhlea says grimly, the both of them in his room with Elaine’s modified silencing ward around them. They really can’t be taking any chances at this point. “So I’m asking very politely that you don’t set them off.”

Bull grins his business grin, the one that means he’s pulling up a front because his actual emotions are irrelevant or would further complicate things.

Or he just plain doesn’t trust her like that, which is very fair on his part.

“Will do, Boss. I’m reporting to Red to get cleared on not knowing about this shit, right?” Iron Bull asks. 

“Leliana’s busy raking through the servants, her lower scouts, and the soldiers,” Adhlea says, grimacing. “You’re going to Elaine. But don’t panic! She vouged for you, I really doubt you’re getting tortured or something.”

Bull doesn’t look comforted by that, his eye only gets more calculating, but Adhlea did her part. 

“Right. Sorry if that doesn’t make me feel better, you didn’t see how she got at that Vint, Boss.”

Also a fair point.

“If you were a danger, she already would’ve pounced on you,” Adhlea says. “You’re relatively safe, Bull, this is just a formality thing more than anything, considering half the castle already thinks you’re an agent.” 

“The Iron Bull, Boss,” he corrects, big brain turning.

“ _ Adhlea _ , Bull.” Adhlea resists the urge to bite her cheek, knowing it’s a bad habit. “Head over to the Healing Ward after this, better to get it over with. Anything else before I wander off?”

Bull watches her for a moment, and Adhlea fights the urge to squirm. The mark faintly glows.

“You shouldn’t be telling me this, Boss.”

Correct!

Unbearably correct.

But Adhlea has been the smart twin her whole life. She gets to be stupid this very second.

“I trust you with my life. What’s one more thing?”

They part ways with that.

\--

“ _ Oh there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red- _ ”

“Shut it, Fran, you’re as bad as Hroar,” Lucia hisses, swatting at her shorter brother. 

“Oh! A compliment!” Francois says cheerfully, reaching past his sister to grab another chilled, Blackbriar mead. “I’m honored to be compared to our lovely, bearded brother.”

Lucia looks over, pleadingly at Sofie, who is pretending she and Aventus didn’t just spike each other's food with nightshade. 

Sofie raises one, dark eyebrow.

“What? Should I scare him into submission?” Sofie asks idly.

Lucia runs one hand down her face.

“Family,” Aventus says with a happy sigh. 

Lucia looks up, seeing that Adhlea is standing at the doorway of the room still, awkwardly. 

She’d stepped in two minutes ago. Every Marquardt in the room noticed her walking into the hall before she even reached the door. Right now it’s sort of a game to see how quickly the girl breaks.

The wolf rumbles inside her, amused. ‘ _ More pack? _ ’ Chimes from the recesses of Lucia’s mind clearly.

Likely. And theirs is already too large.

“Inquisitor, if you stand there any longer you will become a part of the decor,” Runa finally breaks, pretty lips curling into a wry smile as she looks over at said teen. 

Adhlea jumps.

“I don’t want to intrude?” Adhlea says, though she’s already making careful steps towards the large table. “Are Hahren and Teldryn still out doing stuff?” 

“ _ Doing each other, rather _ ,” Francois says with a snicker, getting Lucia’s elbow to his toned, college robe covered stomach.

“Please save us all from that imagery,” Lucia says with a groan, mentally blocking it out. Adhlea nods quickly, and the strained noise she makes voices her disapproval.

“Baby ears,” Aventus adds dutifully, hands over Senna’s ears.

Speaking of, Lucia needs to find this Val Royeaux her mother got the two mer children from, and  _ cull something _ .

Herris, the seven year old baby mage, and Senna, the ten year old already taking to Aventus’s “ _ teaching moments _ ”, are almost as traumatized as  _ they were _ as children. That isn’t a good thing.  _ Very much isn’t a good thing _ .

“You anklebiters need to get your heads out of the gutter.”

And so appears Pa, Ma right behind him writing something in her journal.

There’s a familiar hazy look in her eyes. Too many projects at once, about to hit a breakthrough, look. The rest of Lucia’s siblings get it too, sometimes. Sofie when she’s mixing something that can and will curdle your blood to her satisfaction. Samual when he’s doing something with math, or whatever Steward’s do. 

“Sex is a perfectlly natural thing, and so is not having it. Are there sweetrolls? Oh, Herris, love, elbows off the table, you’ll turn and knock something over,” Ma hums, walking over to the table and grabbing three sweetrolls, right after fixing Adhlea’s posture and moving Herris’s elbows.

“Sit down, kid,” Pa tells Adhlea, pulling off his helmet. 

Adhlea jumps--she is jumpy isn't she?--and plops down on Lucia’s free side, not currently occupied with Francois.

“Happy to see you again, Inquisitor Adhlea,” Francois greets cheerfully.

Adhlea makes a face. “Just Adhlea, please. Happy to see you too.”

Ma sits down beside Runa, on the other side of the table, still writing between bites of her sweetrolls. Pa follows her, as he always does.

“Uh, is now the appropriate time to ask about the lip tattoos?” Adhlea asks.

The lip tattoos. Black on their top lip, gold bisecting their bottom lip and chin.

_ The _ , lip tattoos. 

“Blood magic,” Aventus says playfully.

Lucia gives him a sharp look. “Don’t just  _ say _ that!”

“It isn’t a lie, darling sister mine,” Aventus says, taking a bite of his nightshade seasoned goat, like the odd, odd boy he is. 

Well, man. But he never acts like it so what does it matter?

“Family protective wards,” Runa says simply, looking up from where she and their mother had been murmuring about magic. “Regeneration, mostly.”

“Is that how you all look so young?” Adhlea asks. “Aventus doesn’t look almost forty at all, for a human.”

“What a backhanded compliment!” Francois says, delighted. “There’s saving this one yet.”

“To answer your question, no,” Lucia says with a sigh. “Not that I know of, at least.”

Ma hums, catching all of their attention.

“No, actually, it’s a good hypothesis. I hadn’t thought on it much, but the regeneration cycles do restore you to optimal shape,” Ma says, looking up from her notes. “And the lot of you are injured enough to make it very likely.  _ Especially _ Aventus.”

Lucia blinks, slowly.

“So what you’re saying is we’re effectively unaging!” Francois says with a cackle. “No wonder Blaise still looks like a twenty something twig.”

Lucia pokes her own unwrinkled face. 

She  _ really _ should’ve realized this before.

“No, not effectively unaging,” Elaine says with a sigh. “The runes feed on latent magicka in the air, and Thedas is not a magically rich realm thanks to the veil. You will most definitely age.”

Runa grimaces.

“I quite liked Francois’s hypothesis better, mother.”

Lucia glances over at Adhlea, who looks like she’s aged twenty years in the span of a moment, a face she often makes when people from Nirn start speaking. 

There’s a rational part of Lucia that most certainly understands the sentiment, but ration can only survive so long in the Last Dragonborn’s household, especially when they ran through draugr crypts for fun as children. 

“How’s the girls, Sofie?” Teldryn asks said woman, who has her mask pulled down and is making direct eye contact with Aventus as she eats her food. 

“Giaena has started learning how to not stab herself with a dagger, and Reldie has just discovered that with large enough puppy eyes she can convince her father to overtake a small nation,” Sofie says. “So, fairly well, I suppose.”

Francois snorts, and Runa rolls her eyes at him. 

“How old are they?” Adhlea asks, before backtracking. “If you don’t mind answering!”

Sofie switches her ever piercing gaze to the girl. 

“Giaena is ten, now, and Reldie is six.”

Adhlea nods, looking visibly intimidated. Terrible decision around Marquardts. 

“ _ AH HA! _ ”

All eyes shift to Ma, who has quickly stood from her seat at the table. 

“Paper. I need paper!” Ma declares, hurrying over to the side of the room and grabbing a large amount of paper and readying her quil. 

“Oh, is the college getting a new manuscript?” Fran asks. 

“Shhh, don’t jinx it,” Runa hums. “Two hundred on two days, Sofie.”

“Set,” Sofie says casually. “Aventus?”

“One day, three hundred,” Aventus says with a grin. “Lucy?”

Lucia sighs, deeply. 

“Four hundred on half a day,” Lucia says, pulling out the pouches of money. 

Money exchanged hands, Sofie the official money handler when Aleson isn’t available. 

Adhlea blinks slowly, opening her mouth and closing it. 

“ _ I’m not paid enough _ ,” Adhlea grumbles, looking at the ceiling. 

—

_ Elaine finishes the book in half a day, Lucia is openly smug.  _

—

Elaine and Vivienne are…  _ hanging out.  _

Adhlea eyes the two of them suspiciously, watching Elaine gesture something with her hands pointing to a book, Vivienne nodding quickly and writing something down. 

“Uh. You two alright?” Adhlea asks, wandering up. 

“More than alright, Inquisitor,” Vivienne says, not looking over at her. “And the blisterwort extract…?”

“Must be distilled, but it could work,” Elaine says. “Hello little dear. Vivienne, it would be prudent I visit the patient in person. How bad is his condition?”

“He… he has at least a year,” Vivienne says, all vulnerability shutting down on her face. “And you are certain you can assist?”

“More than. The symptoms are not unfamiliar to me,” Elaine states.

Vivienne nods. 

“Should I ask?” Adhlea asks the air. 

“It is… a delicate personal matter, Inquisitor,” Vivienne demurs. “And best not spoken so openly. How soon can you both leave for Val Royeaux?”

“Now,” Elaine says without missing a beat. 

“Uh… with enough time to earn the advisors and grab the Circle? Unless you don’t want the rest of them near your problem,” Adhlea says. 

Vivienne would grimace, if she were less of a player of the game. 

“That is your prerogative. So long as they do not… join us, for the personal matter itself, I do not care.”

Right. So keep them from being nosy or don’t bring them at all. Got it. 

Adhlea will grab Bull at least, since he’s technically her bodyguard. Other than that, Elaine, Teldryn, Vivienne and herself should be enough. 

Unless they run into a large contingent of red templar. 

Actually, no, Adhlea thinks Elaine by herself could handle an army single handedly, let alone a skirmish. 

“I’ll get Bull, that’s it. Gates in an hour?” Adhlea asks the two women. 

“Agreeable.” “Whatever you wish, little dear.”

Oh this is gonna be a rough one. 

—

“We’re headed to Val Royeaux, just us, Vivienne, Teldryn, and Elaine. Can you be ready at the gates in an hour?” Adhlea asks Bull, having hurried over to his seat at the Tavern in record time. 

Bull blinks, or winks, who knows, but nods. 

“On it, boss. Am I allowed to ask questions?” Bull asks, already standing and starting to walk to his room. 

Adhlea winces. “Ask me, and not in front of Vivienne. If I can answer I will.”

Bull nods, ever putting on that agreeable front. 

“Krem! I’m headed out, keep the Chargers from burning anything down.”

Krem snorts from where he’s standing on his chair. 

“Will do, Chief. Come back alive, will you?”

Bull chuckles, stepping up the stairs. 

“Wouldn’t dream of doing different, Vint.”

Bull gives Adhlea a look like she’s supposed to follow him, so she does, making this the second time she’s been in his room in a week. 

Er, not for the usual reasons people are in his room, either. 

Oh gross.  _ Nevermind.  _

The door clicks shut behind them and Bull is pulling out his mostly packed travel bag. 

“Questions?” Adhlea asks with a tilt of her head, a hand flicking up to put those silencing wards around them. 

“Any reason it’s just us?” Bull asks. 

“Nothing crazy, Vivienne is just dealing with a personal matter and would prefer not having a large audience,” Adhlea says with a shrug. “Other than that, business as usual.”

Bull nods. 

“And I’m your bodyguard.“

Adhlea grins. “Yup! Anyways, did you need something else? No dramatic reveals or idle thoughts?”

Bull huffs a laugh. 

“Nah, Boss. Just wanted to see how long until Sera tries to stick an arrow in me for having you in here twice.”

Adhlea chokes on air, face heating up instantly. 

“ _ Bull-  _ **_what_ ** _?? Sera??? _ ”

She is the very eloquent Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste. Something something freer of the Hinterlands and Druffalo everywhere. 

“You make it too easy.”

Adhlea grumbles, flicking down the wards and walking out of the room, before remembering she has half an hour to pack and doesn’t even have her armor on. 

_ Fenhedis.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It ain’t 5000 words but sometimes the chapter must end where it ends. *dab* 
> 
> How’s everyone’s day going? Thoughts on how fast Elaine can switch between violence and calm? If you had to be a curtain, what kind of curtain would you be?
> 
> (all very important questions.)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [An Alternate Theory of Worlds by Archmage Almaliriel Eruvarin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27683149) by [MB_Westover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MB_Westover/pseuds/MB_Westover)




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